Repressions
by Simply Lily
Summary: More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. But Gossip Girl knows everything. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there. Blair\Chuck.
1. Pilot

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Up until _The Thin Line… _and nothing more! I know nothing and I like it.

A huge thank you to **gleechild** for being an awesome, attentive beta, and entertaining me to no end with her own fics while I'm at work.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**A Waldorf Soiree**

**Spotted: B and C, having a heart-to-heart. Can someone say 'aw'?****  
**

* * *

_Repression: The rejection from consciousness of painful or disagreeable ideas, memories, feelings, or impulses._

Chuck dropped into the seat next to her, as if he owned the place. He was sitting way too close and they both knew it. "Well, well," he drawled. "What is a girl like _you_ doing in a place like _this_?"

Blair chuckled, but didn't move. She knew he'd only call her a tight-ass prude if she did, and she _loved_ proving Chuck Bass wrong. "I don't know, maybe I own it? Or, more accurately, my mother owns it, and she owns _me_. It's only sensible to keep your belongings in the same place, so they don't scatter."

"Why, Miss Waldorf!" he gasped, mock-seriously. "All this champagne is doing nothing for those Waldorf graces." He examined her closely, making sure not to look down past her neck for anything in the world, so as not to lose that precious ability to procreate that he valued so much. But over the neck was just enough to spot new taunting material. "And, if I'm not mistaken, it seems one of your bra straps is twisted."

Blair's hand shot to her shoulder instinctively. Her cheeks reddened as she quickly fixed the offending strap, but her glare never faltered. "Perv."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a perv, I'm despicable, I should be put down," he repeated her mantra obediently. "So…" he smirked. "Serena's back."

Blair rolled her eyes, as always, making a show of being much more bothered than she really was. There was no use in showing him that he really didn't annoy her _that _much. Knowing him, he'd only try harder. "Thank you, Chuck, but I too was blessed with the gift of sight," she snipped.

Chuck smirked, happy to have caught the _wholesome _Blair Waldorf in a lie. To her credit, she seemed to realize it at the same time.

"And, of course, I knew already," she tried to cover.

Chuck raised a teasing eyebrow. "…Right. You wanted it to be a surprise."

Blair straightened defensively, "It worked, didn't it?"

"A little _too_ well, I'd say."

"Lucky no one's _asked_," she snapped, and now he _was_ annoying her that much.

He chuckled. "Oh, _snap_."

Blair threw her head back in laughter, surprising them both. She was usually not prone to such sharp movements; it was most discerning. Why, her headband might fly right off her head and ruin her hair! Still, she couldn't bring herself to stop. "I can't believe you just said that. _Snap_? Where are you _from_?" She giggled.

Chuck let her have her fun, smiling despite himself. It was refreshing to see Blair Waldorf cut loose every once in a while. She was almost, dare he say it, _cute_. Of course, she would have his head for even _thinking_ that, let along bringing this whole thing up in the future.

He knew just what she wanted, therefore knew she would want to forget about this conversation as soon as possible. Maybe a less threatening environment would be better. "How about a walk, B?"

She looked at him incredulously, "A _walk_? Won't your limo mind?"

He chuckled, "I'll send it flowers tomorrow morning. Come on, I'll have a smoke while you glare at me in dismay. It'll be fun." He even extended his hand to her.

Blair looked at it for a moment, as if contemplating all the repulsive things he might have _done_ with that hand, but took it eventually, allowing him to hoist her up. She figured she could wash it thoroughly four or five times later, _at least._ She probably had some disinfectant somewhere as well.

"Where'd Nathanial go, anyway?" Chuck asked in a way that was in no way innocent. "Think he's with Serena? I mean, they haven't seen each other in a while. Probably have a lot to _catch up on_."

Blair fought a strong urge to stick her tongue out and smack him. "_No_. Serena went home, _to sleep_."

Chuck smirked, "Alone? What a shame."

For this, he received an annoyed scoff. "Of course alone. Nate's probably in the bathroom." She added as an afterthought, "You sleaze."

He winked, "You know you love me."

She lowered her voice in a mockery of Gossip Girl, "XOXO."

Blair motioned to Katy and Is that she'd be back in a few minutes, in case _anyone_ – namely Nate, when he finally appeared – would ask, and followed Chuck to the elevators.

Outside, she sighed, struggling with herself, before finally saying somewhat bashfully, "Hey, Chuck?"

Chuck cocked his head in her direction as if he had been waiting for this for hours. Truthfully, he was surprised she even made it past the elevator ride. "Yes, Miss Waldorf?" he answered sweetly.

She smiled, trying desperately to undermine the whole thing. This could all be a little insignificant scheme if she just pretended hard enough… a little gossip between two friends, if you will. Nothing major really, she and Chuck did this kind of thing before breakfast.

"How would you feel about a little recon work?" her voice was even at that _just right_ tone of husky mixed with mischievous.

He smirked, "Depends. What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" she asked without thinking.

Chuck raised an amused eyebrow, "Must you even ask?"

She sighed. "And besides that?"

He shrugged, contemplating his options. "I'll let you know. Perhaps simply _knowing_ that you owe me will be enough."

She bit her lip, her shoulders stiffening. "Uh… great. Anyway, could you-"

"Talk to Nate about having sex with you?"

She raised her chin, "Not interrupt?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Do carry on, oh great sun around which we all revolve."

Blair ignored him. "Talk to Nate about…" she trailed off, choosing her words carefully.

Chuck smirked, "Having sex with you?" She averted her eyes and he knew he had been right all along. "See, I said it so you wouldn't have to go through the trouble of finding an appropriate _prude_ way of phrasing it." Now it was Blair's turn to roll her eyes, but he still felt insufferably pleased with himself. "You take me for granted."

"I think I'm gonna regret this," she said conversationally.

"Oh, please. I wouldn't want my partner-in-crime to be all… _unsatisfied_," he winked. "And if you won't let _me_ take care of that troublesome little chastity problem for you, which I would _gladly_ do, I guess Nate is as good a second choice as any," he sighed regretfully. "Hopefully I've trained him well."

Blair smirked, "Hopefully _not_ by giving him private tutoring."

Chuck felt like clapping, but settled for a proud, full-on beam. "_Snap_, yet again. Have you been working on that wit?"

Blair wasn't deterred in the least. "Will you ever stop trying to flatter your way into my pants?"

Neither was he. "Highly unlikely, given how fetching said pants are."

"You're heinous," she scoffed.

It was actually nice to be able to flirt with a girl without the promise of actual sex or an actual slap; kept things light. He winked even more obnoxiously this time, thus setting a world record. "Well, you wouldn't be saying that if…"

Finally, Blair's endless patience wore out. "Could we put a lid on the lewd comments for thirty seconds or so? It would be greatly appreciated."

"I'll put on a timer," he promised, nudging her shoulder in a playful manner.

Blair smiled gratefully but found that she had a headache. She was hungry and Serena looked beautiful. That bitch. Even after riding the filthy train for God knows how long and showing up at the party wearing her _traveling_ clothes, she _still_ looked better than Blair in her apparently poorly-fitted fancy outfit.

"Listen, I have to go," she started to turn around. "Could you just… make sure everything's…"

"In check?" he offered.

She grinned. "Exactly."

Chuck saluted, eyes twinkling. "Just remember that you owe me." He stood by his limo and tried not to feel like he was just being a Blair's bitch and didn't _actually_ have anything to claim from her.

Blair started to walk away while murmuring, "Yeah, yeah." Just before reaching her building's door, she turned around and called, "Hey, how about one last inappropriate and degrading comment before I go? You know, as a thank you."

Chuck considered this. _You look beautiful_, he wanted to say, not oblivious to her many issues concerning Serena and measuring up to her. Said issues never seemed as ridiculous as they did at that very moment, with Blair's hair moving softly in tune with the wind and her eyes twinkling with glee - and _that _dress! With _those_ pantyhose.

She pouted, "What, you have nothing?"

_What the hell_. "You look hot!" he yelled simply, earning himself a strange look from the doorman.

Blair laughed. "Not your best!" She turned away.

Chuck realized he forgot all about the joint.

* * *

**First Gossip Girl fic _ever_and I'm very nervous. Be kind, Review-d.**


	2. The Wild Brunch

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Up until _The Thin Line… _and nothing more! I know nothing and I like it.

A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys are seriously awesome and have my everlasting devotion. I was so nervous about this fic so it's wonderful that you like it. I hope you like this as well. And also to **gleechild** for being an awesome, attentive beta.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**A Wild Brunch, Indeed.**

**Spotted: Why so mad, B?**

* * *

Blair sat stiffly on her stool as if every little motion would turn the world on its axis and she would fall down to the horrible depths of hell. She always got a little religious when she was in distress.

Not that she was distressed right now. She was – what was the term? – _getting past it_.

The bartender handed her a martini and she gulped it down in one shot, practically shoving the olive down her throat. Despite years of experience, her stomach gave a churn of protest and her throat burned. It was _wonderful_. She could drink enough to make herself sick and then it wouldn't be her fault – everyone throws up after drinking into oblivion.

_f-you, Dr. Sherman._

For a moment she thought she saw Serena slump across the lobby but she must have been dreaming. If Serena was down, as Blair _hoped_ she was because her trashy boyfriend dumped her, she would have come straight to the bar, her second home.

She sipped on her second martini pensively. Maybe Serena really _was_ trying to change. See if she cared. Blair promptly turned away from the entrance and stared at her second olive with determination. She _commanded _herself to be over _it_. Over Serena, over Nate sleeping with her, over her father and everything else that interfered with the perfection that was her life.

And that was how Chuck found her: staring at a little fruit or vegetable, or whatever the hell olives were, like she was daring it to break into song and dance. Not a good sign, that. Had he not thrived on mayhem, he would have cringed.

He slid onto the stool next to her in one smooth motion.

"Waiting for me?" he drawled.

Blair glanced at him, clearly annoyed.

Yeah, like _that_ ever stopped him. He smirked, very aware of the fact that he was being insufferably smarmy, "You could have just gone up to my suite and waited for me on the bed…" he drawled. "Wearing that headband and nothing more." He flicked at the black rose in her hair with his index finger and was surprised when she didn't knee him. "In fact, I would have preferred that," he added.

She groaned, "Good _God, _that bed. And to think, I would have actually… on _that_ bed."

"What's wrong with my bed?" he almost pouted. _Almost_.

"Are you kidding? It's probably _infested_."

He scoffed, "Nonsense. It's a very experienced, trustworthy bed."

"Please stop," she held a hand in front of her, her lip curled in disgust. "If you _ever_ valued my sanity, you'll stop talking right now."

Chuck smiled with amusement, as he usually did when she tried to shoot him down. She was _so_ cute when she thought she was being mean. And even cuter when she really _was_ being mean. "My sophisticated jokes will appear much funnier after a few more drinks," he suggested, motioning to the bartender to bring her another martini—her usual drink of choice—while ordering a scotch for him self.

The bartender looked a little apprehensive as he poured Blair her drink, which was… odd. Then he backed away as if she was gonna snatch his hand along with the glass.

She was scaring people without trying— another very bad sign.

But Blair, oblivious to all this, merely sipped her martini gracefully. "I actually did come looking for you, believe it or not."

A smile spread across his face and he edged closer to her teasingly. "I _knew_ you would eventually. A girl can only resist for so long."

Blair rolled her eyes and produced a small silver key from her purse. "I wanted to return this," she said, holding the key firmly in front of him. "The last thing I want is free access to that _harem_ you reside in. I shudder at the mere thought."

Chuck shrugged, turning back to his drink. "You can keep it. I have dozens. You never know, you may need to escape someday."

The two hotel workers from the night before passed by and offered him a wink.

Blair shook her head, repulsed. "Yeah, but escape to _what_? An orgy?"

Chuck nodded back to them before flashing her his most devilish grin. "Hopefully."

"Seriously, Chuck? _Them_?" she shook her head. "They're _hotel_ workers."

He frowned, "So?"

"They're probably, like, from _Harlem_," she clarified, as if it were obvious. "They could have… _diseases_."

Chuck's laughter was sharper and more dorky than he usually allowed it to be. "They're just hotel workers, Blair, not crack whores."

Blair just shrugged, undeterred. "Not anymore, anyway, because they ran away from their drug-dealing pimp who lives in _Harlem_. They probably have an eight-year old gang member kid to support."

This only served to worsen Chuck's embarrassing fit of laughter. "This… comes from the girl who once offered private tutoring to children from the projects, because, and I quote, '_everyone deserves a chance_, _and it's my honor to offer it_'," he squeaked in a cruel imitation of her most righteous and preppy voice.

_Ah yes_, she remembered that— tutoring underprivileged snot-nosed Junior High kids. _Ugh_.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever, it was extra-curricular for Yale. And I didn't _sleep_ with them. I repeat, _ew_."

Chuck brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "Well, those two girls were certainly… _experienced_."

Judging by her slight flinch, Blair certainly registered the veiled insult on her own lack of experience. It was _just_ like him to help her with something and then insult her for needing the help. And, needless to say, both were always done with that trademark obnoxious smirk. _Self-satisfied_ _prick_.

As retaliation, she waved her hair casually, hitting him in the face. "Of course they are, since they're _whores_, as we previously discussed." She placed a finger on her chin in fake contemplation. "I feel like this conversation is going in circles."

But Chuck was not about to wisely pick his battles, as he should have. Instead his smirk widened, almost to the point of cruelty. "Serena's new boy-toy is from Brooklyn," he reminded her. "Is that better?"

Blair's playful grin was wiped from her face within milliseconds. She took a large sip from her martini and shrugged, "It's not, and he's not."

"He's not what?" he frowned.

"Her boy-toy," a vengeful smile spread across her face and she drawled. "Not anymore, anyway."

Chuck nodded, quite happy to change the subject from his taste in conquests. "I meant to tell you… nice work," he raised his glass in appreciation.

"Well, the way you casually _deadpanned_ the whole affair was a nice touch," she answered, her tone sarcastic. _She_ should have been the one to tell Cabbage Patch. It was her _right_. She was quite happy that Chuck got pushed around for beating her to the punch line. It had certainly been fun to watch. Even Chuck himself had looked amused when Dan lost it.

It was unclear whether Chuck registered said sarcasm and just didn't care, or genuinely thought she complimented him, either way he bowed his head, "I aim to please."

Blair absently played with the toothpick that previously held her would-be magical olive. Her good mood, which she worked hard to achieve, was now completely dissipated. She once again felt crappy and ugly and fat and _hurt_. Her boyfriend slept with her best friend and they _both_ lied about it.

Well, apparently, all _three_ of her closest friends lied about it.

Chuck, with his keen sense of women, noticed Blair's stiffened shoulders and signaled the bartender for another drink. The nosey employee that should have been fired ages ago gave him a weary look, as if to say, _"your funeral, buddy_.'

Although Blair _was_ gulping the drink in a pretty frightening manner, Chuck still made a mental note to get that idiot of a bartender fired. Obviously, he was unaware as to who Chuck was.

It seemed like hours before Blair finally broke the silence.

"So… you knew." It was anything but a question.

He sighed. "I did."

"For how long?"

"The whole time."

"Did Nate tell you?" she asked shakily, her eyes as wide as saucers. It hadn't occurred to her that he might have… _bragged_ about bagging Serena Van Der Woodsen. Maybe all the guys passed a vodka bottle around and listened eagerly as Nate regaled them with stories of every moan, every kiss, every second of his betrayal.

Blair's stomach churned again. She was drinking too much.

She forgot Nate was as surprised as her.

Chuck shook his head, "No need, I caught the live show. Not as impressive as you'd think."

She winced, her nausea worsening. She chugged the rest of her drink, ignoring her body's pleas. "I've actually never pictured it, thank you very much."

Chuck looked at her oddly, "_R-ight_."

He reluctantly signaled for another martini, though even _he_ had a feeling it was a bad idea.

Blair laughed, her voice brittle and poisonous, "But apparently, you have. And, you kind of _admire_ her for, you know, stabbing me in the back?" She shoved the key into his chest in a way that she knew would hurt and almost snarled, "Thanks a lot, Chuck. Nice party."

She started to leave and Chuck sighed. "Wait."

Blair turned around, clearly exasperated.

He was _not_ going to say this. Not gonna, not gonna, not gonna.

Oh, who was he kidding? "I'm sorry," he murmured.

But Blair was unimpressed by this obvious lapse of character and merely sneered. "You can't even help it. You _have_ to be cheeky, regardless of whom it hurts. Otherwise, who are you?"

Chuck found that he was actually insulted by that. His knee-jerk reaction was to snarl '_bitch_', but he had enough self control to not embarrass himself. _Bitch_ lacked the necessary shot of pain he was aiming for. Hell, she'd probably be _flattered_.

He nodded curtly. "Right… as long as you understand."

Her smile was no less curt, or cold. "Of _course_."

Chuck smirked and dangled the key in her face, part of him wanting to defuse the tension while another wanted to bite back, twist the knife. "Wanna get back at him?" he offered, winking. "Apparently, my suite is free."

"Pass," she snapped.

He pouted dramatically, "Aw."

Blair pressed her lips, visibly building a brick-wall between her self and this jerk she _sometimes_ considered her friend. "Actually, if you're looking for a way to make it up to me-"

"I wasn't aware I _was_," he murmured.

"-You'll forget this whole thing." Chuck raised an amused eyebrow, which she ignored.

She _commanded_ herself to regain control of this situation. Having Chuck know was bad, having him know _before_ her was worse. He could use this to humiliate her for ages to come, not to mention his disturbing affection for Gossip Girl, the devil herself. More often than not, he was the one who tipped her off about the latest scandal. She shuddered at the thought of how much damage he could have caused her.

The fact that he didn't had her indebted to him – another scary thought.

She cleared her throat and adapted her most serious, clarifying tone, "It happened a long time ago, and it was just a stupid mistake between two _former_ friends. It could happen to anyone."

Chuck smirked. "Anyone?"

Blair scoffed, "See, this is exactly why I try to _never_ get drunk."

His smirk didn't falter, on the contrary. "Really? Because you're in your, what, seventh martini? And my suite is so, _so_ close."

"Didn't I just ask you to never talk about it again?" she snapped. "And yet, here you are, _talking_ about it."

He brushed a soft lock from her face in an almost aggressive motion. It was a telling sign of anger that he was crossing a sacred line between them so blatantly by invading her personal space. "Actually, this doesn't count," he licked his lips. "I was just hitting on you on an unrelated note."

Blair didn't bother to pull back. She knew it'd be equal to losing. "Just promise me," she said firmly.

Chuck felt like asking, _'or you'll what?'_, but for once in his life, demonstrated some forgotten trace of tact. His voice lowered into a taunting whisper, "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Cross _what_ heart?" she snarled.

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but she silenced him with a practiced glare.

The argument was settled, yet neither of them was appeased.

"Whatever. I promise," Chuck huffed. He seriously considered breaking this promise. "You can sit back down now." Though he had no idea why the hell he was asking this shrew to stay, he signaled the bartender for a refill. Maybe another drink would loosen her tongue enough to apologize back. If _he_ did, it was only fair that _she _would too.

The bartender, however, clearly thought this was a disaster plan, if his paleness was any indication.

Blair motioned for him to stop. "No thank you, it's late."

Chuck rolled his eyes, "Don't be a bitch, Waldorf. Have another drink while I get the car. It'll do you good."

"I _said_ no, thank you," she snapped. "Good night."

She turned around and he turned back to his scotch, eyeing it coldly.

"You know," he started, still staring into his scotch. Blair looked upwards wearily before turning around. He tilted his head, his eyes locking onto hers, neither showing even the slightest trace of warmth. "I can't help feeling like I'm getting a hit that's meant for Nathanial. I don't like that. This is not my problem."

Blair, who had been holding herself stiffly, deflated with a sigh. "I _just_ asked you to stop talking about it." She felt betrayed for some reason.

Chuck rolled his eyes, "Which I _already_ agreed to do."

"Then _why_ do you keep bringing it up?" she almost whimpered.

"It slipped," he snarled. "Won't happen again, your highness."

"Good, then we're done here," she said, her voice dripping with vehemence.

Chuck sneered, raising his glass. "Guess so."

"You should really take care of that eye," she said. "It makes you look like more of a loser troublemaker than usual." Her heels clicked angrily as she strutted out of the bar, not sparing him another glance.

Great, now she was channeling his _father_, of all people. The day just kept getting better.

"Gimmie another one," he ordered.

The bartender looked dizzy. Never in his life has he seen people consume _this_ much alcohol without passing out. And he was pretty sure these kids were under-aged! He served Chuck anxiously.

Chuck sipped his scotch and felt lousy.

_Figure_s

Nate got the sex while he got the grief.

Just _once_ he would like to trade places.

See how _Nate_ liked to be on the receiving end of Blair's wrath.

* * *

**This is the part where I use the puppy-dog's eyes and ask for your input. Review?**


	3. Ivy Week

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Up until _The Thin Line… _and nothing more! I know nothing and I like it.

Thanks for reviewing, guys! You are seriously made of awesome. I love sitting around at works and browsing and especially reading your sweet and appreciated reviews! And also to **gleechild** for being an awesome, attentive beta.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

**Ivy Week**

**Spotted: Are B and C plotting **_**again**_**? You guys make my job **_**so**_** easy.**

Chuck was only beginning to settle back into sleep after the loss of Nate to (ugh) _exercise_ when his own phone sprang into life. _Son of a bitch. _Whoever it was, was about to get an earful. However, when he looked at the caller ID, his scowl transformed into a cheeky grin.

"_Finally_," he drawled.

"Good morning to you, too," Blair said, a smirk evident in her voice.

He stretched lazily, burying his face into the fluffy pillow. "I'll only forgive you for this _ungodly _hour if you're calling with details, of the juicy variety."

She was unbelievably _not_ apologetic as she chirped, "More or less. Coffee?"

"I enjoy drinking it on occasion. Not very good for hangovers, though."

She chuckled. "Are you hung over right now?"

Chuck rubbed his eyelids, which were becoming uncomfortably heavy. How stupid would it be to fall asleep on her? She'd never let him live it down. "Not really, no. I _would_ like to go back to sleep, though, if that's quite alright with you, Queen B."

"Actually, no," she said simply. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the city in the background. Figures she'd be up and about already. She probably made it a habit of waking up at the crack of dawn, eager to accomplish whatever the hell she was always accomplishing.

"No?" he asked. "Just like that? Don't I get a say in this?"

Stupid question, really. Blair actually laughed in amusement. "Since this happens to be the one morning a year in which you're lucid, you can come out for a coffee with me. Unless Jersey Tiger is still around?"

He sneered. "Of course not. It's morning. The sun hits and the girl splits."

Her eye-roll was almost audible, he _swore_. "Charming."

Chuck smirked. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I assume Princeton's not that great after all?"

"It was alright," he shrugged.

"Then are you still going to Yale with me in two years?" her voice dropped into that sweet girly hum she used when she wanted something from him. It was usually quite tempting to agree.

Hell, why not this time? It's not like he actually _cared_ about college. Yale was far enough away from Bart Bass. "Well, since you so _desperately_ want me around…" to make sure Nate had a reason to come visit her, he imagined.

She interrupted him. "So, will you meet me at Starbucks in twenty minutes?"

He let out a surprised snort of laughter. "What? Blair, I _just_ woke up. And I'd _still_ like to go back to sleep."

She huffed disapprovingly, "Oh, please. Indulgence is _so_ unbecoming, not to mention totally last century. I'll give you thirty minutes."

_Last century_? _Says_ _who_? He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "You're _way_ too used to things going your way, Waldorf." Sighing dramatically for effect, he announced: "Well, at the risk of giving you a complex, my answer is still a firm 'no'."

Blair sounded impatient. "Thirty-five? Come on, you could have been dressed and ready to go by now."

Sure, if he were a _freak _like her.

Chuck started to get up out of sheer instinct, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was acting like Blair's bitch, _yet again_. It was unheard of and unacceptable to be a girl's bitch without the promise of compensation. On the other hand, though, he _did_ want to hear all the details. He frowned pensively. How did he surrender to her wishes without losing every last ounce of manly pride?_ Hmm_.

A light-bulb came to life in his head. "I've got a better idea: let's turn coffee into breakfast-"

"Whatever, just-"

"-in my suite," he finished with a drawl.

"_What_?" she sputtered. "Uh, I'd really rather _not_."

Chuck grinned devilishly, wishing to God he could have seen her face right now. "It's called compromise, Waldorf. You should try it sometime," he said primly, solely to be annoying. "And you still owe me."

"What?" she asked again, clearly about to spontaneously combust. "But… Oh, _hell_ no."

"Hell _yes_," he corrected. "See you in twenty." He snapped the phone shut before she could protest and laid back down in satisfaction. He remembered Serena's face as Blair sweetly (and systematically) tore apart her entire future with a shiny smile and his humble assistance. He thought, _this oug_h_ta be good._

_Knock, knock, knock._

"It's open!" Chuck called, having finally settled into a comfortable position.

"No, it _isn't_, you idiot."

_Oh, right. Damnit. _He managed to raise himself and barely made his way to the door, groaning all the way there. He opened it to find Blair tapping her foot impatiently, looking like she sprang right out of an old role of film with the flowery scarf, the sophisticated little bag, the old-school pearls…not to mention, those _lips_.

He smirked, granting her access with a bow. "Blair Waldorf, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

She walked in heftily and took in his striped pajamas. "Wish I could say the same for you," she tsked.

Chuck shrugged, "I apologize; I was under the impression that this was just a friendly breakfast."

"Really?" she made a big deal of widening her eyes. "I thought there was no such thing for you. I thought every friend had a possible benefit?"

His smirk widened predictably. "_Well_, then this morning just took an interesting turn. Please, make yourself at home. The whipped-cream will arrive shortly."

Her lips curled, "You're _really_ heinous."

He winked, "Only in the sense that turns you on."

Blair rolled her eyes, grabbed some grapes (_naturally_) and took a seat on the couch her boyfriend vacated not long ago. "Were you really _still_ in bed?" she asked, disbelieving.

"I'm still _in_ bed." He answered, promptly lounging back into it. He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the spot next to him. "You're more than welcomed to join me."

She wisely ignored his latest come-on and instead focused on what she considered a _sinful_ waste of time on his part. "You know, this apathetic attitude will get you nowhere in life."

Chuck frowned. He _was_ already just where he wanted to be in her life. What was her problem? Was this a dig at Nathanial again?

Resorting to the one thing he knew irritated her _for sure_, he winked. "You know, if it weren't for your devilish traits and those ruby lips, I would have shunned you years ago." He made a show of running his eyes across the length of her, noticeably lingering at her legs, which were currently strapped in a pair of curve-hugging skinny jeans. "Those legs don't hurt either."

Blair promptly crossed them, unaware that it only made them sexier. _Such innocence._

Nate was seriously an idiot. If his best friend wasn't pathetically hung up on Serena, Chuck would have been a bit wary about undressing with him in the room, if you catch my drift. "I still can't believe _no one_ filmed the field-hockey throw-down," Chuck almost pouted, mourning the loss of a would-be great piece of soft porn. Teen Queens throwing down. _Nice_.

Blair smiled inscrutably. "Yeah, about that…"

He shook his head, his lips parting in a wistful smile. "The look on Serena's face was priceless." He raised his coffee cup in a toast. "Nice job, partner. Miss van der Woodsen is officially _ruined_. Persona non-grata, if you will."

"Strike that," Blair informed him simply.

He sat up enthusiastically, his toes curling at the prospect of _more_ havoc to come. He knew there was a good reason to be conscious so early in the morning. "Ah, I see why you came here. Are we going to ruin her some more? Rub it in a little? Maybe create a pregnancy? A secret abortion? Sex tape?"

Blair shook her head, "Quite the opposite, actually. S is going back into fashion."

His mind came to a screeching halt. He frowned, "Excuse me?"

Blair smiled triumphantly. "I knew I could get your attention without having to lose my shirt." He was too stunned to even notice this obvious bait, which pleased Blair immensely. "All actions against Serena will cease as of now."

"What?"

Victory getting the better of her, she tore a hefty piece of a croissant and nibbled on it. "What's wrong, Chuck? You're usually so sharp… You must really not be a morning person."

He raised an eyebrow, "What is this?"

She shrugged, placing the croissant back on the plate. No need to lose her head, either. "Things change. Like I said, it was just a stupid, _drunken_ mistake. Time to move on, yes?"

"Really?" His eyes twinkled condescendingly. "So it's all… water under the bridge? Just like that."

"Exactly like that," she stated, straightening in her seat.

Chuck tilted his head to the side. "How predictable."

Blair almost sputtered her orange juice. Of all the things she hated to hear about herself, _predictable _was right up there with _fat_. "What?"

Chuck shook his head, perversely pleased with himself for shocking the almighty Blair Waldorf. "You're regressing to your doormat days, Blair."

"What?" she almost shrieked. "I _am_ not!" She shook her head, "I mean, I was never a doormat to begin with."

He smiled, almost affectionately. "Oh, yes, you were. You were Serena's reliable little friend."

Blair rolled her eyes, practically oozing impatience. "Stop trying to cause problems, Chuck. S and I are going to make up and everything will get back to the way is used to be, with no meddling whatsoever on your part. Understood?"

With a resigned sigh, he murmured, "Well, I must say it's… disappointing. I was having so much fun messing with Serena."

Blair waved her hand, dismissing him, and tried to ignore the way her stomach tightened uncomfortably. She _hated_ when he questioned her decisions like that. "Oh, give me a break. You _love_ Serena. There were no two bigger scoundrels than you guys, remember? All that boozing and partying?"

Like he even remembered half of it. "I daresay I moved on. Who cares about Serena?" he sneered.

"_I _do, thank you very much. She's my best friend?"

The notorious self-satisfied Bass smirk resurfaced yet again. "You sure about that?"

Blair's eyes darkened in warning. "Are we talking about things we _shouldn't_ be talking about?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, ma'am. Regardless of the reason, Serena's been gone for a year."

"Point?"

"Putting aside the fact that said best friend left you _without warning_ in your time of need…" he reminded her, as if she could ever forget, "It's been a very good year for you, am I wrong? From the Sidekick to Queen B?" he drawled.

Blair nervously popped a grape into her mouth, a sheer sign of uncertainty. She absently fingered the letter in her bag.

Chuck gaze turned more intense with each passing second. It made her quiver. "You've got the whole world wrapped around your little finger," he continued slowly. "You've got your little minions worshipping the ground on which you tread, you've become the _It_ girl. Do you _really_ want to give that up? For Serena? I'm sorry, _to_ Serena?"

"It won't be like that," she choked.

"Serena's a bitch, Blair. Don't you remember?" he prodded, almost kindly.

"She's changed."

"No one changes."

She tilted her head, regaining control of herself. He was just spewing nonsense, as per usual. Just because _he_ wouldn't hesitate to betray and lie didn't mean Serena would do those things. Serena was her _friend_, always had been, always would be.

"Weren't you just going on about how much _I've_ changed?" she asked, smiling coldly.

Chuck refused to fold and let her have her way. "You didn't change; you just finally got your opportunity to shine. I wouldn't throw it away so quickly if I were you." He leaned back on the pillow, having accomplished his mission. She was now obviously having doubts. "Bu-t, if you say the hazing stops, it stops. After all, you're the boss. _At least for now_. Pass the blueberry syrup?"

Blair tossed him the bottle without thinking, utterly shell-shocked. Chuck caught it and absently poured some on his pancakes, waiting patiently for reality to set in.

A while, and some grapes, later, she finally broke the silence. "At the risk of sounding clichéd, do you really think she'll..."

"Try and take over? Yes," he said simply, barely looking up from his food. "She'll hog you, drag you around, and always keep you one step behind her. It's Serena; it's what she does."

"But I need her," Blair said, her voice almost inaudible. "Serena's the only one I can talk to."

Chuck sucked in a breath dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. "Excuse me? And what am _I_?"

"A conniving hellion who can't be trusted?" she asked, smiling sweetly, almost fondly. At his cocked eyebrow, she shook her head. "Besides, you and me, best friends? What's wrong with this picture?"

"Nothing, as far as I can see." He winked, "We make a good team, don't we?"

She laughed because it was ridiculously true. They ran a vivid underground operation with the goal of absolute domination, and without anyone being the wiser. "We really do, but there's a world of difference."

"I see," he nodded, indulging her. "So, in _your_ reality, a friend is someone who uses you and then tosses you aside as an afterthought? Huh." He lied back, contemplating this twisted way of thinking. It did explain a lot, though.

Blair's brow furrowed in concentration as she reached for another batch of grapes. Why did he always do this? She had been so sure when she left the house. She was going to talk this thing out with Serena and make her apologize at least one more time before she forgave her. Actually, that was the test. If Serena asked for forgiveness again, thus proving that she hadn't given up, Blair would relent.

But now…

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she asked: "What's the point of having everything if it's not really mine?" Then her eyes accidentally connected with his.

Chuck's eyes bore into hers. "It _is_ yours. You took it, fair and square. You have every right to try and keep it."

Blair tilted her head, lips pursed skeptically. "Why do you care so much?" she asked. "You should be ecstatic."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm only looking out for your best interests."

_Ha! Yeah, right._ She actually giggled at this. "And seriously folks?"

Chucked leaned in conspiratorially. "I _am _serious. I _like_ the new Waldorf," he drawled, grinning devilishly. "She's a keeper, that one. There's never a dull moment with her around."

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes. "Then why are you always complaining about how dull things are?"

"Because I like the sound of my own voice. Learn to read between the lines, Waldorf."

"I don't know," she said playfully. "It seems dangerous to go beneath the surface with you. I mean, if you're so dirty on the outside, what the hell am I gonna find inside?"

He smirked, "Not much, I assure you. I'm a pretty straightforward kind of guy."

"I don't believe that for a second, Chuck Bass. What's hiding under there?"

"Under here?" he asked innocently, fingering the collar of his shirt. He popped open one of the buttons, revealing a hint of chest. "A toned, _incredibly_ enticing body, eager to pleasure you."

"Nice attempt to distract me," she said, giggling at the most _ridiculous_ display of swagger _ever_. "But, thank _God_, I'm immune to your blunt harassments by now."

"Really?" Chuck drawled, his eyes twinkling with unreleased laughter. "How about now?" he popped another button, trying his best to keep a straight face. It was hard to appear smoldering and mysterious when Blair was practically doubled over in laughter.

Blair covered her face in one of the sofa pillows to stifle her giggling. Chuck Bass was _stripping_ for her!

"You know, this is not the reaction I usually get," Chuck informed her seriously, though it was obvious he was barely containing his own glee. "This is downright wounding, Waldorf."

She pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, "Would it help if I stuck this down your pants?"

"Oh, _definitely_."

"Seriously, though," Blair continued after regaining her composure, smoothing over the outrageous display of skin as if it never happened. She considered this a personal favor, as the blackmail material would have taken _months_ to get old. It was _a friend of Blair's _discount, as far as she was concerned. But she would only be forgiving once. "Someday you'll open up and say something totally embarrassing that you'll live to regret. And I'll be right there, filming it all."

He sneered, "Hell, if that happens, I'll tip off Gossip Girl myself."

"Only because she's the only girl you've ever loved," she retaliated.

"After you, of course."

"_Of course_."

He blew her an air-kiss.

She rolled her eyes and got up. "Anyway, I'm off to make peace with Serena. Thanks for breakfast-"

"Which you haven't touched."

Blair took a few steps towards him, her hips swaying slightly. "So this is your bed, huh?"

_Whoa_. Thankfully, Chuck had enough control over himself to make sure the blood rushed _only_ to his head as opposed to absolutely forbidden areas of his anatomy. What was Nate _thinking_?

He ran his tongue across his lower lip, "Why, yes. Yes, it is. Like it?"

Her smile turned derogative within seconds. She tossed the hundred-dollar bill at him, hitting him square in his still exposed chest. "Still looks infested to me. Leaving!" she chirped, her voice teeming with mirth. She was gone within seconds, tossing her hair back.

Chuck lied back down with a sigh, smiling absent-mindedly. He never had as much fun as he did this last year with this perfect, preppy girly-girl who turned out to be worse than him, on some occasions. Some of the things she thought up were downright… _cosmically_ mean. Lovely.

He did hope Serena would leave some Blair for the rest of them.

**What's that purple button? Aren't you kinda curious about it? I mean, it could be anything!**


	4. Bad News Blair

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_. How cool are they, by the way? They're so heartless, I love them.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Up until _The Thin Line… _and nothing more! I know nothing and I like it.

As always, thanks so much for your reviews? They are beyond the valley of greatness, just past the hill of awesome. What? I don't know, I didn't get that either. Just trying to be original here. Does anyone even read this? _God_, I hope not. This reflects nothing of my writing style, promise. And forever thanks to **gleechild** for being the very best beta ever.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 4**

**Bad News on Lost Weekend**

_**Spotted**_**: Chuck Bass making a mysterious call. Girlfriend, perhaps? Well, I'll be damned.**

Her mother was crazy.

Blair turned around to examine herself from the back and sighed. She had no ass, it was ridiculous. Her back was stiff and just went on forever and ever without curving in that delicious feminine way she always wished for, like Serena's. Now _there_ was a girl who could wear skinny jeans and get away with it. Blair was sticking to skirts, thank you very much. And her chicken legs, which looked quite scary from the front, looked even worse from behind.

What was her mother _thinking_? Did she _want_ her business to crash?

She should just approach her right now and give her a chance to salvage her Bendel's deal.

_You're her daughter, she doesn't like _anyone_ more than you._

Well, maybe not at the moment, but Blair was pretty sure her mother wouldn't like her that much if she quit the night before the shoot. Her mother hated quitters. She wanted her mother to do well, and the best way for that to happen was _Blair_ doing well in this goddamned shoot tomorrow, so that was that.

It was alright, she could push through. She just had to hide some of the more blunt flaws in her body and hope Photoshop could do the rest. No profiles, no turning around, _definitely _no jumping and no weird unflattering angles. She could do the 'hand on the hip and _pop_' thing Serena liked, just as long as it was face forward and without _popping _too much and exposing her awkward hipbones.

Blair took a deep breath. Everything would be alright as long as she stayed focused, and she invented focused.

Her phone rang, startling her. There was no one she really wanted to talk to right now. Serena had already called to say '_break_ _a leg, B!_' (thus freaking her out) and Nate was at Chuck's stupid Display of Testosterone, also known as the Lost Weekend.

Lost _Brain Cells_, maybe.

She looked at the caller ID and her eyebrows shot up. _Whoa. _She pressed the 'send' button almost warily. "Hello?"

"What do you mean 'hello'?" Chuck hummed, his voice cutting through the noise in the background. It sounded like breaking bottles and prostitution, in Blair's opinion. "You're supposed to purr my name in greeting," he continued lazily. "That is why caller ID was invented."

Blair smirked, "I'm sorry; I just figured it was probably a stripper who found your phone in some ditch."

"Meaning?" the innocence in his voice would have put lambs to shame.

She sneered, "Duh? Lost Weekend? No communication with the outside world?" God knows she heard enough about Chuck's stupid rules when Nate explained to her why he couldn't call or come by.

"Unless _I_ say so," Chuck reminded her.

"We_ll_," Blair dragged out the word cheekily, "I took that to mean, you know, the fire department, STD clinics, professional cover-ups..."

He chuckled, "You give me way too much credit, Waldorf."

"Wait, I'm not done. You also might be calling me from jail."

Chuck laughed heartily, which meant he was either depressed, drunk, or both. Judging by the suspicious hitch in his breath, Blair suspected there was a good portion of both involved. This was never good.

Still, she had to admit that it was really sort-of kind-of cute. She couldn't help smiling slightly. "So, why did I merit a call on _such_ an important day?"

"Your boyfriend is annoying," he informed her simply.

"Nate? Why?" she frowned absently, examining her bare stomach. If she got drunk every time Nate was annoying, her liver would have turned in its resignation letter years ago. She hardly noticed anymore. She did, however, notice that while her stomach was quite flat (thank _God)_, it seriously lacked some muscle tone and looked… dull. _Ugh_.

"Carter Baizen came back from some ditch in Thailand," Chuck spat.

Had Blair cared about either Carter, Nate, or whatever the hell was going on in Chuck's harem of obscenity, she would have realized Chuck's two comments seemed completely unrelated. As it was, she ruffled her hair and wondered aloud, "Really? Thailand? What was he doing there? I thought he was in India."

Chuck huffed in annoyance. "What's the difference? He was rebuilding cities, getting in touch with his inner hobo, stuff like that."

"Ew," she murmured, finally tuning into the conversation.

"That's what _I _said," he chuckled. "Only in a somewhat more manly way."

She rolled her eyes, "Which, in your case, means pointing, laughing and then pouting in a dark corner?"

"And calling my beautiful partner-in-crime, of course," the smirk was evident in his voice.

Blair grinned slightly, examining her face—perfect skin, proportioned features, plump lips. Her cheeks were a little chubby but she was marginally pleased with her features overall. "Usually flattery will get you nowhere," she said curtly, before breaking into a grin. "But today's kind of special, so thank you."

"Why is today special?" he perked, typically.

"Never you mind," she brushed him off. "So, what about Nate?"

Chuck was more than happy to return to his original tirade, though he was evidently curious. "The way he's drooling over Carter, you'd think he cracked the lottery system," he muttered bitterly.

"Didn't he use to be your idol, Chuck Bass?" Blair drawled, teasing him. "I thought he taught you the basics of being a scoundrel."

"Yeah, back when he was _cool_," he sighed. "You should see him, Blair. He's wearing one of those striped, _filthy_ wool jackets that backpackers wear."

Dissing the clothes, how very manly indeed. Blair shook her head, "He's probably on acid."

"Probably," Chuck agreed with a chuckle, indulging her. What acid had to do with anything was beyond him.

"Nate's just star-struck; he'll get over it," she assured him, well versed in being ignored by Nate for someone more glamorous. "You know you're his one true boy-crush. Just ignore it; it'll go away."

Well, that certainly explained a lot about Nate and Blair's relationship, but Chuck was not the kind of guy who took a number and stood in line. "What_ever_," he spat, slouching further in his seat. He glanced at the rest of the party, his lip curling in distaste at the crowd around Carter. _Losers_. "And it's not just him," he almost whined. "Everyone's practically bowing at his feet. Are they _blind_?"

"Depends. Is there wood alcohol involved in this shindig of yours?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. _Priss_. "Now that you mention it… no. despite what you may think, a Bass Bash does not end in the hospital."

"Says you. I think history would disagree."

She _may_ have had a point, if he thought about it. A _small_ point, concerning a certain glue incident neither Chuck nor Nate were happy to talk about. He glanced at the party again, and now Carter was actually standing in the middle of a circle of wide-eyes idiots. Nate was on his right, practically leaning over him as he listened eagerly to Carter's tales or whatever communistic sermons he was spewing. It was becoming more pathetic by the minute.

"He can have his fun tonight," Chuck snarled suddenly. "But tomorrow's a new day."

"Need me to pull out my knuckle busters?" Blair teased.

"Knuckle busters?" he practically doubled over, laughing and coughing simultaneously.

"I also do a killer tiger impression, apparently." She tried it in front of the mirror and was horrified to discover that it looked even stupider than it felt when she did it with Serena. What they must have thought of her when she did it. The photographer seemed to like it, but he was probably looking mostly at Serena. It looked good when _she _did it, of course.

"And why did you have to test _that _particular talent?" he hummed, interest piqued to a maximum.

"Stop being nosy, Chuck," she scolded without any vigor. "Don't you have debauchery to attend to?"

"Debauchery will wait. I'm curious."

"It'll kill you," she chirped.

Chuck ignored her warning, as he would. "What did _you_ do today?" he drawled.

Blair was about to brush him off, _firmly_, she swore. She wanted to tell him to go to hell and leave her alone; this was embarrassing enough without his lewd comments cheapening the whole ordeal. Why on earth, then, did she find herself smiling proudly, almost to the point where her lips felt uncomfortably stretched? "You'll know in a few months," she whispered, as if sharing a precious secret.

Chuck's face fell. She couldn't be talking about… no. No _way_. As far as he knew, Nate still hadn't sealed the deal with Blair, the idiot. Had Blair Waldorf gone all naughty while his best friend's back was turned? "Months?" he asked tentatively, bracing himself. "As in… nine?"

Blair let out a surprised hitch of laughter. "What? _No_, you freak!"

_Thank heaven_, he exhaled. Wiping his memory clean of the very notion of Blair Waldorf _like that_, his smirk resurfaced full-force. "Then what?" At her soft unyielding hum, he insisted, "Come on, Blair, months? I don't have that long to _live_. Tell me."

Blair giggled. "No way, I don't wanna jinx it. Besides, you'll laugh at me."

If possible, Chuck slipped further into the shadows, where he was sure they couldn't be interrupted or overheard. Nate seemed too busy to notice his absence anyway, but Chuck didn't really care about that right now. This new exciting intrigue had pushed everything else aside. What did Miss Prim-and-Proper _do_ that had her so audibly blushing?

"This is sounding better and better by the minute," he mused. "I swear I won't laugh… _externally_."

Blair rolled her eyes, more at herself than at Chuck, who couldn't see her anyway. Why did she have to open her big mouth, anyway? Oh, if he only saw her today, acting like a tiger and Cyborg Spice and Britney and _repulsive_. How _did _Serena always coax her into doing these stupid things? Would Audrey humiliate herself like that? _No._ Tomorrow would be all about dignity, she decided.

"You know," Chuck's voice interrupted her reverie. "I'm not going to forget about this just because you're ignoring me. _Over the phone, _I might add."

"I think I'm gonna hang up now," she said.

He took a contemplative sip of brandy and decided to start slow. "Are you releasing an album?"

Blair laughed heartily at this. If there was _anything_ worse than Blair Waldorf roaring like a tiger and imposing that disconcerting image upon the world, it was Blair Waldorf _singing_, and then distributing it to people who weren't lucky enough to be _deaf_. Chuck was off his rocker, and obviously needed to cut down on the alcohol. "Have a nice weekend," she started to say.

He smirked. "_Playboy _cover?"

There was a silence, and then Blair said, somewhat bashfully: "Getting warmer."

Chuck almost sputtered his drink all over the carpet. There were little spots of colors at the corners of his sight and his knees felt eerily unsteady. "What?" he choked, barely breathing. "How am I getting _warmer_?"

"Less porn, more pose," she assured him.

"What is this now?" he chuckled. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He _refused_ to let his thoughts wonder anywhere that was in the vicinity of… _there_ ('there' being the Constance little tie and headband and nothing else). He was definitely _not _thinking about any of that. 'Boundaries' was the name of the game here, and he followed the rules religiously.

Well, he _tried_, anyway.

Blair bit her lip, tried to keep it in, and failed. "My mom's going public with Bendel's," she blurted.

"Really?" he asked, much more interested than he would usually be. But he would be interested in pretty much anything that distracted his thoughts from… _there_. He would gladly discuss politics right now, or global warming. Or, hell, even boy bands. Whatever happened to those, anyway?

"And they need a new face for the company," she continued so joyfully that he had to smile. "Something fresh, exciting…"

"And elegant," he finished, smiling proudly. Blair, _modeling_? Why, he never thought he'd see the day. _That_ girl, with _those _insecurities? Maybe she finally realized she was gorgeous, only not in the stupid Barbie way she always tried to be. Still, now that it was no longer an option, he could admit that he would have preferred the _Playboy_ Cover. "By any chance, is it lingerie?"

Please, like Eleanor Waldorf would _ever_.

As confirmed by Blair's snort. "Yeah, right."

Yeah, he didn't think so. Still, a guy could hope: "Are there Polaroids?"

"Chuck! Will you stop being a perv for _one_ minute?" she scolded. "This is a big thing for me."

_Aw_. "Okay, okay. Did you shoot already?"

Blair hopped on the bed, finally relieving the poor mirror of duty. It was too depressing anyway. They must have seen something if they picked her. There were a lot of models that were awkward and gangly. And her mother picked her! _Her_! Serena was right next to her, but _Blair _was her first choice! Colossal mistake or not, Blair was still happy to have been picked first. So _sue_ her.

Her face broke into a smile. "Tonight was just the make-up test; I'm shooting tomorrow morning. Which is why, incidentally, I need my beauty rest."

"You really don't," he assured her. "You'll do great, as always."

Her cheeks reddened involuntarily. "Thanks, Chuck."

_Aw_, again. She was so cute with her blatant cries for attention. This was the bitch who made retail workers cry for her (and his) sheer amusement? He kind of wished he could see her in this rare bashful and humble state. "No chance I can persuade you to come down for a celebratory drink?"

"As if," she snorted, proving that you _really _can't keep a bad girl down. Gone was Little Bo Peep and back was the Shrew, as he preferred it. "Even if your place _wasn't_ inhabited by a pack of hormonal jackasses, I'd still have to pass. I'm turning in early."

Chuck smirked, "Are you sure? I've known a lot of models; I can give you tips."

"I don't think knowing them _biblically_ qualifies," she remarked dryly. "But I appreciate the thought. I'll see you Monday and we'll both _try_ to get by until then," she sighed dramatically, "difficult as it may be."

His smirk had a suspicious tenderness to it. It was fortunate that no one saw him and that his voice betrayed none of it. "I think maybe we can arrange something tomorrow. 48 hours is too much time in between, I don't think I can handle it."

Blair gasped, "But, Chuck! The cocktail waitresses! The strippers!"

"Will make due without me for an hour," he completed easily. "You know Dave, right?" He didn't even wait for an answer, as Dave was a tawdry, _vulgar_ hellion and, ironically, one of Nate's closest friends. "He'll keep them extra busy while I'm gone."

"Ugh, thanks for that mental image," she blenched. "Now I won't be able to asleep, and tomorrow I'll look like Steve Buscemi."

He chuckled. "Sorry. Would it help if I came to tuck you in?"

"_Definitely_ not."

"A lullaby?"

"Even worse."

His chuckle developed into verging-on-hysterical laughter, which was how he knew this conversation had to end. He was getting too uninhibited for his taste. Time to cut the drinks short. "Okay, okay. Goodnight, you ungrateful bit… I mean, _beauty_. See you tomorrow. Good lu-" He halted with alarm when Nate was suddenly towering over him.

"Hey, man," he grinned, eyes suspiciously dazed. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, is that Nate?" Blair's voice was immediately – and miraculously – transformed into that sickly sweet, extra-charged, wholesome and accomplished chirp that was reserved for Nate and authority figures. "Send him my love!"

"Sure," Chuck said slowly, trying not to display any emotion whatsoever. Send him her love? _Yeah, right_.

She didn't seem to notice the change in his demeanor in her desperation to finish the call and not appear like a jealous girlfriend who couldn't stand to have her boyfriend gone for two days. Which she _wasn't_. Chuck called _her_, after all. "Gotta go, try not to break any hearts or conceive any children," she blurted and quickly hung up.

Chuck hung up with a slight grin.

"Who were you talking to?" Nate asked, nudging him teasingly.

Chuck pursed his lips. What was he supposed to say? '_Your_ girlfriend, actually. _I _called her because I was feeling down. That's not a problem, is it?'

The sad part was it really wasn't a problem as far as Nate was concerned. He had no perception of how one was supposed to behave around his special-someone's best friend, for obvious reasons. In his experience, it was acceptable to take baths together, get drunk, and occasionally find yourself bumping uglies. He would have thought nothing of Blair and Chuck having an amicable conversation.

But what was that old saying about a certain liar whose pants were on fire?

"No one," Chuck said, way too casually.

Nate's smile broadened. "It couldn't have been 'no one' if she pulled you away from _the_ Lost Weekend."

Chuck rose to his feet, practically pouting, "Why would you assume it's a girl?"

"I guess you're right," Nate amended, though the twinkle in his eye remained. "I just didn't realize that was your thing. So… who is _he_?"

"What happened to Carter?" It was Chuck's equivalent to sticking his tongue out.

Of course, Nate was oblivious. "Nothing, man. Actually, we're gonna play some poker. You in?"

Chuck's lip curled. "Poker?" With _that_ guy? "No, thanks."

Nate rolled his eyes. "Alright," he amended. "_Strip_ poker, with the girls."

"Ah, much better." Chuck smirked like he didn't care that his best friend pushed him aside when something more interesting came along. Maybe Blair had a point about these things. Nate would be back. Honestly, he just couldn't make it on his own, the poor guy.

"But won't the missus mind?" Nate poked his chest playfully, clearly amused.

Chuck placed a hand on Nate's shoulder, perhaps a _tad_ too roughly. "I don't know, man, you tell me."

_She's _your_ missus, after all._

**So... how'd that purple button work for you last time? Doesn't it just sorta call out to you? In that way cats do when they're in heat? And you say, "Oh my God, I'll review if you just SHUT THE HELL UP!" So... what do you say? :pout:**


	5. Daredevil

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_. How cool are they, by the way? And if the show was mine, I would have resolved the Nate\Blair\Chuck issue with much nudity, or, you know, _at all_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center around a new episode, so…

I am beyond grateful to all of you who took the time to review. If it were up to me, you'd **[insert some sort of wish]** and then some. I love you! And I'm also taking the TOEFL test on Friday, so I also need you, for moral support and such? On a final note, Jeepers Creepers (what?), this chapter was a nightmare. I mean, Chuck wasn't even _in_ the episode. Not even a mention, a throwback, anything? Poor boy. But I do hope you like this. And forever thanks to **gleechild** for being the very best beta ever.

Enjoy!

:-:

**Chapter 5**

**Not Quite Dare, but Definitely Devil**

_**Spotted**_**: N, fretting over money. There's something you don't see every day. C, locked in his suite, talking to his mysterious girlfriend. Knowing C, I'm guessing… Phone sex? B, also on the phone. Hmm, anything I should know about? And more importantly, is no one planning to go out tonight? Honestly, guys.**

**:-:  
**

Blair sifted through the photos Serena sent her from Central Park. They both looked ridiculously giddy and _stupid_. They looked like they were on drugs, and a menace to the good people of New York. Except, naturally, Serena looked better doing it. Serena looked better when she came back sweaty from a jog in her brother's ratty sweatshirt than Blair looked when she climbed down the stairs dramatically, fluffed and prettied to the max.

This never would have happened if Serena had just _stayed away_. She loved Serena, she really did, but it was easier when she was away. The world was Blair's and she shamelessly reveled in it.

Blair hated being the Ugly Friend.

But she _did_ love Serena. Serena was her best friend, almost her sister. Except, since when did sisters get along, anyway?

They did look happy in the pictures though, so there was that.

_Doing the brand an injustice, indeed._

Sometimes her mother could be such a _bitch_.

Blair felt an uncontrollable urge to spend her mother's money and be worshipped. And if it couldn't be by her mother or her stupid boyfriend – who was never good in the worshipping department – it would have to be by her friends at Blair Waldorf's annual soiree. One of many, in fact. This one would be the Waldorf's infamous slumber party, though no one called it _that_ anymore. It was _so_ ninth grade.

Speaking of which, what was going on with her and Nate, anyway? Their relationship needed a boost. It would be her next project after the slumber par- uh, soiree. Something romantic, _exciting_, magical. Mysterious. A special night, and then everything would go back to normal.

Her phone rang, annoyingly cutting off her line of thought. Sometimes she hated the damn thing. Especially when it was Gossip Girl poking fun at her for some reason or other.

She looked at the caller ID and froze. _Oh_. Oh, right. She forgot about _that_ little problem.

With admirable resolve, she brought the phone to her ear and adopted an annoying jolly chirp, "He-ll_o_?"

Chuck nearly tossed the phone aside with a cringe. "Blair?" he hesitated.

"Oh, it's you," she sighed, as if she hadn't known.

He chuckled and it sounded menacing to her. She felt like she was on the verge of bloodshed. Her _own_ bloodshed.

"I never feel more welcomed than when I'm talking to you," he said.

Why was he calling her? Didn't she have enough on her plate already?

Maybe he forgot about the whole thing. He was drunk, after all… very drunk by the sound of it. And it's not like Chuck Bass was the epitome of a long and healthy attention span. It's not like he cared, anyway. She figured that the best strategy would be to distract him with his favorite topic of conversation: himself.

"How'd the Lost Weekend thing go?" she asked sweetly. "Did that no-goodnic Carter bother you again? I haven't read any obituaries on the subject, so I'm guessing not."

Chuck sounded smug, "He got what he deserved, sort of. He won't be around again."

Blair gasped, "Sortof? Chuck Bass, are _you_ the one getting soft?"

"Don't even joke about that, missy," he sneered. He would get soft exactly _never_. "I had to play clean; it was your boyfriend's fault."

"Nate?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, your _other_ boyfriend. Yes, Nate."

Blair smiled affectionately. That Nate, couldn't take him anywhere. It was funny how Nate was the only soul on earth who brought out the nag in Chuck. "What did he do this time?"

In his suite, Chuck fingered his wrist where his watch used to be. He hated it when people snatched his toys away. "He got played, of course. Sometimes I wonder, have I taught him nothing?" he sighed sadly.

"Apparently not, thank _God_," Blair _phew-ed._ She liked her Nate wholesome and adorable, thank you very much. He was perfect and innocent and so was she, and that was how things were meant to be. There was no need for a scoundrel like Chuck to corrupt him. But she was still curious. "What do you mean, though? How?"

"Why don't you just ask _him_?" Chuck asked childishly, resisting an urge to stick out his tongue like when they were kids and she was annoying him. "What am I, your private Gossip Girl?"

Blair smiled wickedly at the prospect. "Hmm… sounds temping. Would you consider being?"

Chuck smirked, "Maybe. If the price was right."

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Well, I did walk right into that one."

"You have only yourself to blame," he informed her cheekily, forever happy to toss innuendos about.

Blair tried to roll her eyes as nicely as possible. Everyone had their hobbies, she supposed. Chuck was mostly harmless. _Mostly._ Besides, her plan was working. He had yet to mention _it_. "So, if you've taken care of Carter, what do you need?"

Chuck almost pouted. He was seriously beginning to feel somewhat unwelcome here. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you didn't call me to whine about Carter stealing your spotlight and _my_ boyfriend, there must be something else you've called to whine about," she smiled sweetly.

Chuck huffed, "Excuse me? I didn't call you so that I could _whine_."

"_This time_," Blair reminded.

Hmm, it sort of sounded like she was needlessly baiting him. How sweet of her to try. "Your insults aren't quite insulting today, Blair darlin'. I worry." His lips formed a smirk as he finally brought up what he assumed she was avoiding. "It either went really good or really bad."

Blair's first instinct was ignorance. "What did?"

His smirk widened. "Ah, I see. You thought I'd forget? Nice try." It was so much fun when she squirmed.

And, as he hoped, though he couldn't see her, Blair squirmed. "Look, can we not?"

"No_pe_," he dragged the word tauntingly. "So, how'd it go?"

"Don't ask," she pleaded.

"Believe I just did?"

There was a long sigh on the other end.

Chuck practically licked his lips. Oh, this was getting better and better. It didn't take much to awaken Chuck's notorious imagination. Had her dress ripped? Had she been asked to model lingerie after all? Had she tripped on her heels and there was a photo of her flailing her arms around and screaming for help? Oh, the blackmail material was almost _too much_ to bear.

Blair took a deep breath and commenced dragging herself out of the hole she unintentionally dug for herself. "It was _such_ a disaster," she exhaled dramatically.

It reminded Chuck of her over cheerful greeting to Dr. Ostroff, the way she emphasized the _such_. Blair had a tendency to oversell and no one seemed to ever pick up on it. Sometimes she'd smile this sunny smile that made people melt and agree to anything she wanted or believe whatever lie she was telling. When, really, what they needed to be doing was _flee_.

He couldn't believe she was trying it on _him_, of all people. It must have been more embarrassing than in his wildest dreams.

"A disaster?" he smiled, faking sympathy almost like the pro herself.

"I pulled out at the last minute and my mom _freaked_ out," she dragged the word way more than necessary. "I'm telling you, it was a total train wrack. You would have loved it."

Well, he didn't know about her mother, but she was certainly freaking _him_ out. It wasn't even funny anymore. "What are you talking about? Why?"

"Please. Me, modeling?" She scoffed, "I _hate_ modeling. It's so cheap. Why do I have to sell _my_ body so that some _girl_ will buy my mother's clothes? It's humiliating." She was clearly getting more and more into it. "I mean, I want her to do well, but enough is enough. And can you _imagine_ what it would do to my chances of getting into Yale? They would _totally_ revoke my application. Modeling doesn't exactly scream Ivy League, you know?"

She was actually panting slightly, clearly having put all she had into that little speech. Chuck was quite overwhelmed by it, as well as by an unexpected wave of concern that attacked him unawares. Only something truly disastrous could have fueled that outburst.

He sighed, "If it's any consolation, that's actually a really good point."

Blair stiffened defensively. Had she said too much? Why didn't she just tell him it had gone nicely? It wasn't like he would have _remembered_ in a couple of months. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she snapped.

Chuck smiled affectionately, "What, you didn't actually think I'd believe you, do you?"

"I don't care whether you believe me, _Charles_," she almost hissed. "You asked."

_Charles_, _huh_? "Oh, my full name. How wounding," he mocked. "But seriously, come on, you built all this intrigue, now you _have_ to tell me."

Blair exhaled with irritation. "Tell you _what_? Are you drunk?"

"No," he answered flatly.

"Well, maybe you should be. You make more sense when you're drunk."

Two insults in seven seconds. This was looking worse and worse by the minute. "Blair," he drawled quietly. His voice was considerably deeper than usual, a tone reserved for Nate and Blair when they – frequently, it should be said – suffered their varied mental breakdowns. "What happened?"

The knot in her throat that she had been storing without disturbance ever since she opened herself up to – _ugh – _Dan Humphrey, cracked under pressure. "What do you think?" she snapped. "I was replaced, with _Serena_. Can we let this go?" she couldn't make her voice not break at the end of every sentence. She wanted this call to end.

Chuck raised an eyebrow, "Uh… I'm gonna go with 'no'?"

"Please?" she practically whimpered.

Chuck sat back with a sigh. Oh, great. This was what he had been talking about when he warned Blair that Serena would make her miserable. Someone award him a medal for successfully foreseeing the future, and then award him a booklet with instructions for occasions such as this.

Because really, what was he supposed to do? What _could_ he do? Buy flowers? Chocolates? No, that was Nate's job, which he was miserably failing at. Chuck could tell her she was gorgeous until the cows came home but it would never be the same as when the _boyfriend _said it, since he could actually back it up with cuddling or Eskimo kisses or whatever the hell couples did when they weren't fighting or having sex.

Wait, should he have said something about Nate's weird financial situation? Should he say something to Nate about the nervous breakdown Blair was experiencing? Why was _he_ the one carrying around all these issues? Ever since Serena returned, Nate and Blair seemed to exist on two different planes, with him stuck in the middle. _Chuck_, as the link between the two young lovers – how ridiculous was _that_?

How was he supposed to fix either of their lives?

While he forgot himself in his mental tirade, Blair seemed to have reached a decision to just unload.

Well, _decision _was such a strong word.

"It appears…" she started and trailed off, sniffling. "That using me would have done the brand _an injustice_, and that I was horrible and all wrong for the part of joyful, sparkling beauty. Remind you of anyone we know?" she spat. "Anyway, I was unceremoniously dropped, and Serena was offered the job. Are you satisfied now?"

Chuck frowned. "Are you kidding?"

"I _wish_," Blair moaned, furiously wiping her eyes.

He couldn't stop the surprised exclamation that escaped his lips, "But… you're stunning."

Blair rolled her eyes. _Smarmy_ _bastard_. "What-_ever_, Chuck. Don't you have some chores?"

Chuck actually laughed at this, out loud. Chores, indeed. "Hey, I'm just trying to help."

"Screw you," Blair spat.

Chuck smirked widely, "Would that make you feel better?"

"You're heinous." And the worst possible person to confide in. _Good job, Blair. _The only person who would actually be worse was Gossip Girl.

"Yes, I am," he agreed, as if she had given him a compliment. "I'm your designated scapegoat, remember? I look bad so that you'll look good? Don't worry, I don't mind," he quickly assured her, lest she got all moral and stopped including him in her schemes. "So, would you be requiring revenge? Poor Serena wouldn't know what hit her."

_Don't agree, don't agree, don't agree_, she scolded herself when her fist instinct was to give Chuck the green light. "No, Serena was great. _Obviously_." She sighed, "I just wanna forget about the whole thing, if you think you're capable of letting it go without further discussion."

As always, it was his gift to her, but he liked to think he still had _some_ backbone. "I don't know, B. You've been getting too many free passes lately."

Which was another way of saying her life was a mess. _Thanks, prick_. She was annoyed but her voice dripped of girly, manipulative sweetness. "Come on, Chuck, please?"

Chuck leaned back, exhaling deeply. "Oh, I do like the sound of that."

Blair wanted to gag. _Perv. _Her smile widened, her voice softened still, "Pretty please?"

Blair Waldorf, _begging_. He thought he couldn't have been more turned on if she were doing this on her knees while wearing a sexy little slip. Of course, this was bull, as thinking about this delicious scenario in fact turned him on even further. This was a dangerous road he was willingly taking but he knew nothing of caution. Instead, he smirked in the face of danger and made it worse. "You'll show me the pictures from the make-up test?"

"_No_ _way_," Blair snapped, her voice turning brittle in a flash.

It was probably better that way, he tried telling himself. Possibly because she was his best friend's _girlfriend_.

"But I will owe you one," Blair amended after a moment.

_Another one_? "You owe me a lot."

"How is that a bad thing for you?" she cooed.

Chuck grinned wickedly, thinking – while making fruitless attempt to stop thinking - of all the _possibilities. _"Hmm, good point. Alright, I'll think about it."

"And I'm sure you'll reach the right decision," it was neither a question nor a suggestion, merely a fact. He would not deny her, or else.

Yeah, yeah, whatever, as if he was planning to refuse. Nevertheless, this conversation was starting to freak him out. His mind _really_ needed to stop going _there_. Really, really. They were just _not_ like that. There had to be some way to terminate this childish lust; something to remind him that she was a prim bossy little bitch that sometimes nearly drove him to tears with irritation.

A light-bulb came to life.

"Hey, what are you doing tomorrow for lunch?" he asked.

Blair sighed. _Already?_ "Whatever you ask of me, I guess," she said obediently, already making a list of exceptions to that statement.

Of course, Chuck automatically considered these exceptions as well, only in a decidedly different way. _Focus, _he commanded. He was Chuck Bass and not thirteen. He cleared his throat. "I need your AP math knowledge for a little project."

Blair's eyebrows almost disappeared in her lovely brown hair. "Homework, Chuck? Really? Wow, I am disappointed like you wouldn't believe."

He chuckled. God help him; let it never come to _that_. "Not homework, a business model of sorts," he explained before quickly adding: "And no, in case you were wondering, this does _not_ cover your debt with me. But it's a start."

Blair's eyes darkened, "Well, when you put it so nicely."

Chuck smugly ignored her, a sense of power overwhelming his senses. "I'll be at Central Park and you'll be carrying an extra coffee and a dazzling smile," he hummed. "Black with two sugars, by the way."

"You're having _way_ too much fun with this," she warned, almost adding '_and retribution will not be kind_'. But there was no need; he'll find that out soon enough if it was up to her.

"Uh-uh-uh," Chuck scolded sweetly. "Are you talking back? Are you _sure_ that's wise?"

Blair smirked despite herself. This stupid cat-and-mouse game was actually amusing. It sent a mischievous wave of anticipation down her spine and all the way to her toes. Today Chuck had the upper hand, tomorrow she would. And nobody knew of this sinister back-and-forth, not a single soul. "Sorry, Mr. Bass," she breathed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"And don't be late," he drawled back.

She chuckled, "Don't worry, I won't. I _would_, however, think twice about drinking anything offered by me if I were you, you know?"

"Oh, I'm not worried," he assured. "I'll just make you drink some first."

"Excellent!" Blair chirped. "Because holy water will have no affect on _me_."

He laughed. _Cute_. "See you tomorrow, _B_."

"Not if I see you first, _C_," she answered cutely. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a slumber party to plan."

Chuck smirked, "Ah, the perfect parting words."

"You're not invited."

"Which means absolutely nothing to me," he drawled.

"You'll be rampaged by a pack of well-manicured Upper East Side girls. And not in the way you dream of every night," she added before he had the chance to comment. "But I'll call you if I need something to do between the pillow fight in our underwear and Truth or Dare."

Now that was just mean. Why do that? Chuck couldn't trust himself to speak. For the first time since ever, he found himself counting backwards from ten and trying to think about football or his history teacher.

Blair chucked, "And on that note, see you tomorrow, Chuck darling."

She hung up before the swarm of colorful swearwords escaped his lips.

**Parting is such sweet sorrow, hope I'll see you back tomorrow! Er… or something to that effect, that would somehow both rhyme and request a review. I'm not a poet and I certainly know it.**


	6. A Handmaiden’s Tale

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, they'd be _mine_. How cool are they, by the way? And if the show was mine, I would have resolved the Nate\Blair\Chuck issue with much nudity, or, you know, _at all_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

So… seems I am a bit late. I'm so sorry! The reviews for last chapter were so delicious and wonderful and I kept wanting to write and STUPID WORK GOT IN THE WAY. Damn you, stupid work. Any-_way_, while phone conversations are nice, I've decided it's time to bring Chuck and Blair back to the streets, where they can light trees on fire with their sizzling sex-appeal. Besides, those phone bills were probably starting to take a toll on both families, wouldn't you say?

Enjoy!

:-:

**Chapter 6**

**A Handmaiden's Tale**

_**Spotted**_**: Is N falling asleep on his watch?****Seems like he's in for a nasty surprise. B and C, alone and suspiciously amicable? This is getting old. I'm dropping this story until they drop the clothes. Wake up, N. Soon you'll have no one to kiss when the clock strikes twelve.**

**:-:  
**

He was such an idiot.

Making an appointment with Blair on a _Saturday_? Was he _insane_? Blair was probably up since dawn, and she would come soon, bouncing around, full of spirit and pep. God help him. He was a bit hung over; though he was ashamed to admit it. He had drunk a bit too much last night, and the trustworthy hangover medicine didn't _quite_ do the trick.

He buried his head in his hands, trying to save himself the humiliation of falling asleep on a picnic table.

Gossip Girl would have a field day.

He tried to think about sex and loud music but his eyelids felt heavy and unresponsive.

So consumed he was with not falling asleep, he didn't notice Blair approaching him quietly. And just as he was about to surrender to sweet slumber, regardless of the location, she leaned close to his ear and called: "Good morning!"

Chuck almost howled miserably at the general direction of the moon.

Blair gasped, barely concealing the smile from her voice. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was that too loud?" she chirped, still way too close to his ear.

"A tad," Chuck moaned.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, placing a delicate hand on his back.

Chuck couldn't help smirking. With Nate as her boyfriend, it was _so _easy to play the brooding, pouting card on her. It was almost ridiculous. "Look, I'm not dying or anything," he assured her, amused. "Just… the volume?"

Blair gasped again, sounding even faker. "Oh my God, Chuck!" she practically shrieked, causing him to double over with a pained groan. And to think, he would usually give quite a bit to have her screaming his name like that. "I'm so sorry!" she continued to yell. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"I can see that," he said weakly. Chuck buried his head even further into his hands in a failed attempt to lessen the splitting migraine that attacked him. It felt like a train was running from one ear to the other. It felt like sheer torture. That _bitch_. "You know, for a minute there I thought you cared."

Blair's cocky smirk was released at last as she took a seat next to him. "Which goes to show how much you underestimate my dislike of you," she hummed.

"You _say_ dislike, I _hear_ Unresolved Sexual Tension." He glanced at the cups in her hands and his eyes brightened. Already he was feeling better. "Hey, is that coffee?" Coffee sounded _good_ right now.

She sighed, as if chiding herself. "A gesture of good faith of which I am ashamed."

"Why?" he asked softly, patronizing her. "It's so adorable. You brought me coffee."

"I figured you just woke up," she mumbled, lowering her eyes. How _embarrassing_. This was definitely the last time she was doing anything nice for this jerk.

But Chuck, bastard that he was, refused to just let her crawl under a rock. "So you've decided to pamper me?" he cooed. "This is so sweet. I might just melt away."

"Don't tempt me into repeating the vampire jokes from yesterday," she said, annoyed. "They get really old, really fast."

She was blushing! _Aw_. _Someone_ wasn't in their best element this morning. How very refreshing. Chuck made it his life mission to take every opportunity he got to manipulate. Whoever, whenever, wherever. And Blair Waldorf had to be the icing on the cake _and_ the cherry on top. He flashed her his most charming grin. "Can I tempt you into a walk instead?"

Blair mock-gasped. "But Chuck! That would almost be romantic!"

"_Almost_?" he groaned. "What does a guy have to do to satisfy you?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" she asked with a smirk.

He smirked back, interest piqued. "Yes. With detail."

Bair rolled her eyes but was obviously too tired to rebut that comment. He extended an arm to her, which she took warily, as if he was about to either chuck her in the lake or try and pry her clothes off while she was feeding the ducks. People had _such_ a negative opinion of him. Why was that? Couldn't he just be after a nice, relaxing walk with a beautiful girl on his arm on a late autumn morning?

Okay, even in his head that sounded weird.

This felt rather pleasant, thought, like a scene from an old movie.

After exactly seventeen seconds, Blair's curiosity got the better of her. "So what's this business model thing all about, anyway? You didn't spill any details."

He winked, "You couldn't even make it all the way around the lake?"

She sighed. "Chuck, can't you let it go for three minutes? This is early morning for me, too."

Chuck halted dramatically. "My-oh-my, you overslept?" he drawled teasingly. "Gracious. I thought you'd wake the girls at seven sharp for a group jog."

Blair laughed, "Yeah, right. And ten minutes later this park would be littered with unconscious teenaged girls for all of New York's rapists to enjoy." Either that or the girls would use her for target practice.

Chuck raised an eyebrow at what had to be the creepiest mental image ever. "Sometimes your sense of humor is more twisted than mine," he said dryly.

"Not often, though," she snapped.

"Speaking of twisted," he nudged her shoulder slightly, his smirk returning with renewed glee. "Were you girls naughty last night?"

She shrugged, "-ish."

Chuck struggled not to skip around with joy. His toes curled but he remained somewhat poised. He turned to face her. "Oh, do tell."

Blair shrugged again. "Katy and Iz made out."

He sneered, "Whatever. They do that for fun."

Blair laughed, "I'm sure you'd like to think so, but they actually… don't."

Oh, whatever. He was eager to get to the good stuff. "And what did _you_ do?"

She considered this a while, before her face broke in wicked grin. "I think I broke up a wedding and got a receptionist fired."

_Lovely. _"A casual Friday night," he hummed, squealing like a little girl on the inside. He was enjoying this way too much; even _he_ had to admit it. Some would advise him to seek counseling. Of course, those _some_ were miles off his radar. "How'd you manage that, though?"

The twinkling mischief in Blair's eyes almost had Chuck jumping into the lake – such was his need for a cold shower right about then. "A little kiss and citing names of various drugs."

He raised an amused eyebrow as millions of different scenarios ran through his head. "… Right."

"Also, I _almost_ got Little J arrested, but she managed to wriggle her way out of it, unfortunately," she sighed in distaste. "That would have been a wonderful ending to a perfect evening."

"What'd you have little Brooklyn do?"

"Why, steal from my mother, of course," she drawled, smirking at his comical expression.

Chuck laughed heartily. "And you call _me_ a deviant?"

"You _are_ a deviant."

He fingered one of her brown locks, "Clearly, so are you."

Blair grinned broadly, seemingly pleased with herself. "Thank you. It was good fun. However, I am a bit hung over so if you could _please_ get to the point…"

"My point is that you're not as innocent as you'd like people to believe," he drawled, renewing their abandoned stroll around the lake.

"No, you moron," she chuckled. "I meant, about why you dragged me here?"

"I'm thinking of investing in a club," Chuck blurted, looking intently at a poor white duck that never dreamt of such hostile attention.

This time, Blair was the one to freeze. Clearly, they would never complete the round. "Excuse me?"

The duck quickly swam away and Chuck was brought back to his senses. What the hell was he blushing for? He was Chuck Bass. The day he got embarrassed would be the day Nate got a clue. He turned sharply to her, and with his chin raised, declared: "I? Was thinking- yes, yes, I know, never a good idea," he said, rolling his eyes as she went to quip something of this nature. "-of investing in a club."

"Are you serious?" Blair asked incredulously.

His chin was raised even further, almost to the point of cramping. He was being somewhat ridiculous. It was a rare sight, indeed. "_Yes_, I'm serious."

She narrowed her eyes. "What _kind_ of club?"

"The kind I'm guessing you wouldn't approve of," he smirked, breaking into a renewed stride to stop him self from _giggling_. Her painfully natural reaction broke his embarrassment. She didn't seem surprised at all that he would decide something like this, just wary of his motives. He was ashamed to admit that it stirred something very deep inside him – a fluttering of sorts. Honestly, sometimes he was such a sissy.

Blair raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Okay, if you were looking to get me in as a partner, that was _definitely_ not the best sales pitch you could have used."

_Pfft_, yeah right, though he _could_ picture her as a severe Madame, whipping the rest of the girls into obedience. _Hmm_. "No thanks, princess," he smarmed, regaining focus. "Though I have to say it sounds tempting. You would bring extra class to what would already be a pretty classy joint."

Blair's face was priceless and totally worth the idiot he had just sounded like. She cringed adorably like her prissy rich girl status that she reveled in.

"If you refer to any place in this world as a _classy_ _joint_, it immediately negates its class," she lectured, hoping to never hear something so horrible ever again. _Classy joint. Ugh_.

"See? You're already coming in handy," even _he_ could admit that his smile was slimy.

"How wonderful!" she chirped. "Except I totally refuse."

He shrugged, "It's alright. I won't hold it against you in a year or so, when you'll beg me to let you in."

Blair rolled her eyes yet again. And so soon since the last time. It made him giddy in the rawest childish instinct, similar to the gratifying affect that pulling her hair always held. "Truly, that's very thoughtful of you," she said. "But, if you weren't looking for a business partner or a good slap of reality, what do you need me for?"

He stopped, turning to her arrogantly. It was actually becoming absurd, the way they stopped and continued like broken toys. "Sadly, I have yet to become the unstoppable tycoon I will surely be in three years tops." Blair's sneered. He ignored her to blurt quickly: "Which means I have to ask for my father's help."

The sneer melted from her face. "Oh. My condolences." Was he dreaming, or was she _actually_ being sympathetic? Goodness, was it time for the frogs to rain already?

"Thanks," he answered easily.

"Though I _still_ don't see what you need me for." Her smirk was the picture of condescension and was topped only by the hand she placed on his shoulder. "Look, Chuck, if you wanted a heart-to-heart, all you had to do was say so." She leaned closer to him. "I'm here for you. Alright?"

_Bitch_. Two could play that game. He leaned even _closer_ and tugged one of her curls again in a way he knew she hated. "In what way are you… _here_ for me, exactly?"

Blair didn't flinch back. Instead, she asked, with the sweetest tone: "Have you ever been kicked in the shin? I hear it's quite something."

"Usually I'll try anything once," he drawled, his eyes lowering to her lips for emphasis. "But in this particular case, I think I'll pass."

Blair pulled away, sighing. "Will you _please_, for the love of _God_, tell me what you need me for? Before I decide the blackmail just isn't worth it." They both knew this was a bluff from beginning to end. Truthfully, she would rather circle the lake for all eternity than have Chuck say _anything_ to _anyone_ about her short-lived modeling career.

"I need your help with writing a business proposal."

She was startled at the honest, direct answer. Rumor had it that the last time Chuck Bass answered something without adding an innuendo and/or quip was somewhere around the beginning of the millennium. Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "My legendary skills of persuasion don't work against Bart, I'm afraid. He requires efficiency, thoroughness, and a guarantee of success." He took her cold hand in his warm one and grinned, closing the little space between them. "Aren't those your three defining qualities?"

Blair rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Chuck."

His thumb drew sensual circles over her mount of Venus. "That's a lie and you know it." It was possible that he was _slightly_ overdoing it with all the touching. He was dangerously straddling the line between harmless flirting between friends and… _very_ harmful flirting between friends. It was also possible that Blair shivered slightly. "Will you help me?"

She cleared her throat primly and _ignored_ that feeling in the pit of stomach which was _nothing_. "I thought I was obligated to."

He chuckled softly. "I was _trying_ to be polite."

"And I appreciate it," she said, her composure mostly regained and firm. "But please refrain from trying to play me in the future. It's annoying and usually doesn't work."

Chuck refused to let her ruin the moment. Not that there even _was_ a moment to ruin, of course. It was just the principle of the thing. He was being seductive with no purpose and he didn't appreciate being interrupted while doing it. "I'll keep that in mind. Of course, I assume you work better when you actually _want_ to," the last part was said in a suggestive purr, begging the question: _want to do _what_?_

Blair turned away, contemplating the water. Her hand – he made sure – remained fixed in his. It was obvious that she was at least sort of curious.

"A business proposal?"

"If it works, it can go on your resume," he hummed, playing on all her vulnerabilities at once. "Blair Waldorf, charitable _and_ corporate."

"I've never done anything like this," she said slowly, frowning. "I'll have to do some research." She smiled sweetly at him. "Correction: _we'll _have to do some research. I may owe you, but you are _not_ dumping this on me."

_Whee! _"Whatever." It was only fair. "Is that a 'yes'?"

A smirk formed on Blair's lips. "Can I persuade you to beg?"

Not usually, and especially not when he held embarrassing information over her head, but hell, why not? He took her other hand in his and brought them both to his lips. "If this works, you will have my undying gratitude. And, someday, maybe even some stocks in Bass _Jr._ Empire," he whispered. She hesitated and he pulled her closer without making any sharp movements. "Besides, you're always telling me to do something with myself, aren't you?" He lowered his head but kept his eyes on her as he went for the kill. "Help me?"

Blair was actually a little startled at how… smoldering he was being. What the hell? Did the guy just not _see_ the line when it was staring at him straight in the face? She found herself a bit lightheaded. Screw the bad boys of the world. She'd gladly vote to castrate them all, always dirtying the minds of innocent girls.

Still, shivering wouldn't help her case. She cleared her throat. "Well, since you ask so nicely… I'll think about it."

He planted another soft kiss on her palm and whispered. "I couldn't ask for more."

_What the_ _F_? Forget startled; she was _terrified_. Actually, she was experiencing something she hadn't experienced in a while: _sexual tension_. Nate had the sweetest smile, angelic and warming, but he rarely even looked her in the eye anymore. And anyway, right now, she couldn't remember Nate or the concepts _platonic_ and _innocent_. Chuck radiated something animalistic behind that soft purr, like any minute he would press her against the nearest wall and…

Chiding herself, she focused on something else. _Anything_. She wouldn't pull back first. Her pride didn't allow it. "Look, I… I have this ball to plan, but… I'll see you tomorrow at my house, okay?" Her voice was squeaky and revealing and she _hated_ it. She cleared her throat and turned back into the ice princess she always was and always would be. "We'll go through my mother's papers, see if we can find anything. We can try at your father's as well."

Chuck resisted a smirk. He always knew no girl could be _totally_ indifferent to him – even if he did have to put in considerably more work for considerably less gratification. Not that he was complaining, mind you. The strange fluttering dissipated into a pleasant feeling of warmth that spread all the way to his toes. "A ball?" he asked casually, enjoying her discomfort.

_Let go, let go, letgoletgoletgo._ "Uh… yeah. A masquerade." For her and her _boyfriend_ – _Nate_ – to reunite and renew their love. Ah. That did the trick. She disentangled her hands from him and took a step back; slipping back into the comforting image of the no-nonsense hostess. "For next weekend. Invitations will arrive shortly."

"A masquerade?" he grinned. _How invigorating_. "I can't wait."

She straightened her back with a sneer, rebuilding much needed boundaries between them. "You'll have to."

Well, well, look who was all fussy all of a sudden. Hot and bothered much? "Are you sure, though?" he winked wickedly. "Masquerades are dangerous. You never know who you'll end up kissing at midnight."

_Not you, smarmy dumbass_. "I'm quite sure of whom _I'll_ be kissing at midnight, thank you very much." She informed him, almost pulling out a picture of Nate and wiggling it in front of his face. "Good idea, though, the midnight make-out thing. Now, if you'll excuse me…" she took another, definitive step back.

Okay, okay, maybe he had pushed it just a _little_ bit. Chuck wanted desperately to diffuse the tension. He smirked obnoxiously. "Oh, baby, you know I hate to see you go, but-"

"Please, for the love of God, _don't_," she groaned, taking another disgusted step back. Somehow, it seemed they had almost managed to make the roundtrip across the lake, even if they looked like two idiots who needed to teach themselves how to walk every few seconds doing it.

He nodded, couldn't agree more. Still, there's always room for Innuendo'. "Can I at least see one of the poses you did on your little photo shoot before you go?"

Blair tilted her head and smiled tightly and coldly, every nerve in her body screaming _no!_ It was probably not the most marketable concept for a clothing line, but God smite him down if it wasn't sexy. Chuck almost drooled. "Really? What was the problem with that?" he said, way too cheerfully. "That's pretty hot."

"Good_bye_, Chuck," she turned around, breaking into a confident stride away.

Well, so much for getting back to sleep.

Why, he was so agitated, he almost considered jogging.

_Jogging_.

For crying out loud.

Something weird was going on with him.

:-:

**Aw, who's the little Smitten Kitten? Poor Chuck. He has to wait a whole episode in order to finally… er, "blow out his candles" with his beloved, as GG so delicately put it. In Chuck-years, that's like... seven! I do so want to hear what you guys think!**


	7. Victor, Victrola

**Disclaimer: **I own none of this, otherwise it would have been stupid to read the books – I mean, and they'd be _mine_. How cool are they, by the way? And if the show was mine, I would have resolved the Nate\Blair\Chuck issue with much nudity, or, you know, _at all_.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

Oh my God, I'm so late. I'm late; I'm late, to a very important date. This chapter should have been posted weeks ago; I'm-late-I'm-late-I'm-late. I'm so sorry for taking so long. Things are starting to get… confusing now. We are moving from the safe ground of UST to the land of Issues. And besides, the SATs are in less than two months! Ah! I think I might start resembling poor Dan in the next few weeks. Still writing, though, for sanity purposes.

Enjoy!

:-:

**Chapter 7**

**Victor, Victrola**

_**Spotted**_**: With your mother's lawyer, who happens to be your (as of recently. **_**Very**_** recently) ex-boyfriend's father, arrested for screwing… just about everybody, is this **_**really**_** the time to party it up, Queen B? Well, C seems to think so. Shall we take his word for it?**

**:-:  
**

Chuck Bass, newest (kinda) owner of a successful club and future owner of the world, opened the door and motioned dramatically as he announced: "Blair Waldorf, welcome to _Victrola_…"

Blair exhaled impatiently. "Must we do this, really? I feel sleazy enough."

"You _did_ _not_ let me finish," he grumbled, somewhat deflated.

She rolled her eyes. "I know. That is the point of the interruption."

Why was she spoiling his fun? He wouldn't let her. "Shut up and let me welcome you once again to _Victrola_…"

She smiled cheekily, "A facility for the disturbed and addicted?"

"One more time and you are outta here, missy," he warned, even going as far as to wiggle a finger in front of her face, even though she was absolutely right.

Blair laughed incredulously, but otherwise (thankfully) remained silent, nodding for him to continue.

"Good. Now, for the _last_ time, Blair Waldorf, welcome to _Victrola_, where bad has never seemed so good." She groaned; he preened. "Where even you, the tightest of all tight asses, can find solace, a place to escape, a…"

She checked her watch. "Is this gonna be long?"

He promptly ignored her, taking way too much pleasure in this. "…_And_ last but not least, my _own_ personal playground."

"_Excuse-moi_?" she didn't even bother hiding the incredulous shrill from her laughter.

"I think you heard me just right," he said, grinning broadly.

"No. I seem to have gone partly deaf," she murmured dazedly. "I thought I heard you declare ownership over this…" her lip curled as she took in the scantily-clad waitress who offered her a drink. She shook her head as if the cocktail contained contagious promiscuity germs, "…Fetish Retreat"

"Nice one," he nodded appreciatively. "I think I'll put it on the stationary. Because _I _will get to decide on such things from now on." He sighed dreamily, "Isn't life grand?"

Blair's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

_Ouch_. "Well, yeah," he shrugged, grinning wickedly. "Obviously, I'm not _actually_ gonna be bothered with the stationary…"

There was really no hope for poor battered Mother Earth when deviants like Chuck Bass owned any kind of property, especially a club in which to incorporate their kinks. And get _paid_ for it. "Your father _actually_ went for it?" she almost squeaked.

He chuckled, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, B."

Blair felt sick to the stomach as the prospect dawned on her. Chuck's club? The club of Chuck? A place where decency dared not show itself? And she was _here_? Immediately she saw an _S _for _Slut_ imprinted on every forehead of every woman who set foot in this hovel.

So what did that say about _her_?

No, she wasn't a slut. She might have still had her boyfriend if she _were_.

_Now, Blair, that's uncalled for._

_Shut up, mother_. _Like you would know_.

Guys always made a show of liking virgins while fooling around with the experienced goddesses behind the poor virgins' backs. _Bastards_.

Chuck was still looking her with this wounded pout that had absolutely nothing to do with him feeling insulted and everything to do with an air of smugness that stuck to him like cheap cologne. He was so proud of raising such disdain from her. _Bastard. _She shrugged, not apologetic in the very least. "I'm sorry, but… seriously? Your father is willing to invest? In _this_?"

Her indignation was delicious almost to the point of licking his lips. He didn't, though. Such lack of subtlety was reserved to the Humphreys of the world. "And the hits keep on coming," he mourned.

"Wow," Blair murmured, looking around at what was actually, on second thought, a pretty decent-looking club. There were no STD monsters crawling on the walls, the guests were dressed decently, good liquor was served. What was happening? Was nothing stable anymore? "Either he's as disturbed as you, or you may actually have some marketing skills," she said, almost resentfully.

He rolled his eyes and smirked, "Hush now, I may start blushing."

_Aw_, what a spoilt little brat. The insecurity and desperate need of approval peaked through despite his best efforts. Everyone deserved an ego stroke from time to time. She raised her chin primly, "Then you'll continue blushing when I admit to you that I only _somewhat_ thought you were destined to screw this up."

Chuck was so pathetic. He never felt it quite so much as he did right now, when he was beaming behind a glass of champagne at the compliment that was actually pretty insulting. If his father thought he was worth something and _Blair_ thought he was worth something, then maybe… maybe he was? Nah. Blair was probably just being nice. She had that streak of humanity with him sometimes, when no one was looking. She probably thought for sure he was wasting his time and only helped him because of her aforementioned obligation.

But he didn't care, because he wanted her.

Yes, he could admit it now (about time too). He just didn't know what to do with it yet.

He sat down on the sofa placed right in front of the stage, the seat of honor, and patted the space next to him as if it were a throne. "Well, in that case, have a seat, a drink. On the house."

Blair sat down heavily, sliding way too close to him because she was so small that gravity hardly had an impact on her. She didn't move away, but it didn't make him happy because he knew it was the result of her having no idea he was even there. The proximity did turn him on, though. He was only human, and a teenage boy at that.

She took the tall glass he offered and murmured: "This is cause for celebration, after all."

_Ah, yes. Right._

She and Nate had broken up and Chuck was really very happy about this, though somewhat in denial. If they were broken up then the only thing standing in Chuck's way was the fact that Blair regarded him, depending on the day, as a platonic _girl_friend, a dangerous obstacle who sometimes blackmailed her, and a disgusting hedonist that stood against everything she valued in life.

Honestly, he preferred the boyfriend-is-best-friend problem.

Before him, girls were dancing in skimpy lingerie but he didn't care. _Blair_, on the other hand, was absolutely fascinated by them as she sat stiffly, clutching the glass without once bringing to her lips.

Great. Even _strippers_ held more interest to her than _he _did. Clearly, his situation was just splendid.

So, partly because he wanted desperately to cheer her up and play around, and partly because he wanted to draw attention to his noticeable presence by any means possible, he let only a few seconds of silence pass before speaking up. "Blair," he started, his tone grave. "I'm sorry, I _have_ to ask-"

"_Don't_," she hissed. "I don't want to talk about it."

_Ooh, touchy_. But she _still_ wasn't acknowledging him, damn it. "No, not that." He looked her up and down. She looked absolutely lovely. Except she was wearing a circus tent. "I was just… that dress?"

Blair looked down at herself in surprise, as if she had forgotten the monstrosity she was wearing. It was understandable, he supposed. One tended to forget about the unpleasant aspects of life.

She chuckled wearily, "Horrible, I know."

_Understatement_. "What the hell?"

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "My mother picked it," she sighed, looking down at herself yet again. "In her teenage years, no doubt."

Chuck curled his lip, "It's atrocious. Unfit for the public eye."

It could have been insulting had his expression not been so… funny. "O-kay, no need to rub it in, Bass," she laughed. "The dress is a moot point, I'm afraid."

But Chuck was undeterred, too busy undressing her in his mind and not too quietly either. "I mean, where the hell is the cleavage? Shoulders? Anything?" Blair rolled her eyes but his breaks had malfunctioned and he couldn't stop. "I'd let it slide if this were one of those tight, golf sweaters, but it's… not. It's just…" he winced. "_Not_."

"Anytime you want to stop is fine with me," Blair laughed again, mostly to cover for a rebellious blush that crept up her neck to her cheeks. It was nice to feel so desirable in such an undesirable piece of fabric. If anyone could make something sexy out of it, it was Chuck. His slimy charm and disregard for any decorum surpassed reality.

"And where is that delicious pair of legs?" he almost whined. "No cleavage _or_ legs? What a rip-off."

"_Such_ a charmer," she said dreamily, leaning back with a sigh…

…Which brought her even closerto _him_, and him even closer to _hell_. She smelled like fine perfume. Her lips were luscious and enticing. _Someone_ _stop him before he drives off a cliff_. "I'm trying to help you, B. Someday, you'll thank me," he smirked, raising his glass in emphasis.

Blair shook her head and wished very much to be naked right now. Well, not like _that_. "I should develop a better backbone in regards to my outfit and watch what I wear outside the house, roger that. Now will you please drop it?"

Mission accomplished: Blair both felt better, and was annoyed at him enough to acknowledge he was there. Chuck felt so proud. "Reluctantly," he sighed. "I could go on for hours about the horror that is this dress."

"So I've noticed," she grinned. "Listen, I was _at least_ allowed to choose my own headband."

He inspected the piece as if he gave a damn. His train of thought was usually: _headband equals Blair Waldorf equals hot_. Thus was his interest in headbands. But still, this one was yellow, elegant, and delicate – like its owner. Well, minus the yellow part. His romanticism definitely left something to be desired. "Ah, yes, the Waldorf signature," he drawled. "I still think it'd be better accompanied by Channel 5 and _nothing_ _else_."

Blair ignored him expertly. Honestly, she needed a little break from the innuendoes. Thirty minutes straight on a day like this was just a bit too much. Instead, she turned to Chuck conversationally: "Speaking of signatures, where's your scarf? I haven't seen it all day. Did you two break up?"

Chuck beamed at the attention. _Aw, _did she stare at him for hours at a time and notice every little detail about him too?

_Heh. Yeah, right, Chuckles._

"You don't think it's outdone?" he asked, fishing shamelessly.

Blair waved her hand, dismissing the notion. Imagine the devil without his flaming pitchfork. Imagine Hannibal Lecter without the muzzle. The Joker without the Joker card, Freddy Kruger without the metal nails, Lex Luthor without… but she was digressing. "Of course it's not overdone, Chuck. It's one of the top three things that pop to mind when one – for some reason – chooses to think about you."

"Do I wanna know what the other two are?" Chuck asked, interest piqued. He probably would have been somewhat less than thrilled had he known he was – at the very moment – being compared to Freddy Kruger. Not every attention was positive attention, after all.

She smiled sweetly, "Why, obscene and malevolent, naturally."

_Not dashing and irresistible_? He winked. "I love it when you talk dirty."

Rolling her eyes, Blair continued: "Next would be smarmy and manipulative. You know, if you were looking for a top five."

"Why, Blair, I didn't know you cared," he nudged her slightly and took a sip of champagne – though it was probably not an entirely good idea to encourage himself to lose even _more_ control. "Would you like your top five now?"

"No, thanks," she raised a hand to stop him, chucking lightly. "I have a feeling it would either be insulting or just plain derogatory."

What was derogative about Dominatrix Waiting to Happen? "I can assure you, it wouldn't have been."

Blair took a deep breath and prepared to be horrified. "Alright then, go ahead."

_Curious, are we_? Chuck smirked and leaned back. "No, I don't think so," he drawled. "Too late now."

"Shame," Blair groaned, clicking her fingers in disappointment.

How _did_ people see her, she wondered. Putting twisted, sex-driven Chuck aside, how did the people who had other things on their minds – namely Nate – see her? Probably _nagging, strict, anal retentive, frigid, stiff_. What charming Top Five qualities, indeed. Even Chuck's list was better than _that_.

The exact opposite of Serena. She was _nothing_ like Serena.

Blair stared at the dancers, noted how they dominated the stage. They weren't the prettiest, or even the best dancers, but there was something magnetic about them. They attracted, they fascinated, they drew you in. They were the picture of sensuality. Burlesque was known for its funny-looking dancers and subtle movements. The dancers didn't _quite_ give themselves over to the crowd but there was no doubt as to their intentions.

They teased men but never let them win. Like Serena.

Serena twirled around the world, turning heads and causing car accidents, only to spit in all their faces and run off with the sensitive boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

And what did Blair do? She didn't tease, just gave herself fully.

And what did she get? Nothing.

She clutched her untouched champagne glass, almost to the point of shattering it but not quite, much like the state of her nerves. The dancers became the center of her world.

Chuck, always in tune with Blair Waldorf's moods, noticed the change in atmosphere. Blair had an aura of bitterness that was usually attributed to her mother, her boyfriend, or Serena. In this case, he imagined, it was something of all three. Blair was never crueler or more impulsive than she was at those very moments. It was great fun, sometimes.

Not right now, though.

"Look, I know you don't wanna talk about what happened…"

"Relief," she snapped, staring straight ahead in determination. "I feel relief." She looked at the dancers and thought, '_screw this, I'm not anal retentive'_. Everything could be faked, even confidence. Her lips quirked slightly. "You know, I've got moves."

_Oh, man_. He grinned mischievously, knowing a challenge when he saw one. "Really? Then why don't you go up there?"

She chuckled as if she wasn't deathly serious. "No. I'm just saying, I have moves." She wanted to break loose but she _needed_ him to challenge her. This couldn't be of her own volition; she was Snow White. She was Snow White 363 days of the year, except for that one day when she kissed random engaged tacky strangers for no good reason and the one day when Chuck Bass _forced_ her to be bad.

And Chuck knew this. "Come on, you're ten times hotter than any of those girls," he nudged, voice dropping to a tempting whisper. _You know you want to_, he almost said.

She rolled her eyes, the perfect picture of 'I would _never_. "I know what you're doing, Bass." There was a beat, in which she considered the best opening. "You really don't think I'll go up there."

He smiled affectionately. "I _know_ you won't do it."

_Thank you_. Her eyes burned of defiance. So, did he really think she wouldn't? Oh, no. "Guard my drink," she said, almost stonily.

Chuck motioned her to the stage without even blinking. It was usually pretty stupid to trust a guy like him with beverages of any kind (though it was pretty widely known that he went for easy, not illegal and monstrous), but this was Blair Waldorf. Blair Waldorf, even before this stupid crush, was probably the only girl alive who was safe in the presence of Chuck Bass.

So safe, in fact, that he had become said platonic girlfriend. Not an ideal position to be in when one falls deeply in lust, despite what movies would tell you. He was invisible to her as a man, he knew this. She could give him her drink, be alone with him in the most secluded spots, _hell_, even ask him to hand her a towel while she was in the shower.

Well, he liked to think so, at least.

Blair swiftly got up and climbed the steps leading to the stage in what seemed like three long strides. No one protested – as if they would.

First went the headband, and Chuck had exactly three second to be disappointed until he noticed the way Blair's bangs sprang to life, bouncing around her, framing her face.

The ugly dress stopped being a problem a second later.

As the zipper of her dress slid down Blair's body, so did Chuck's blood stream. No longer was he able to walk, talk, think, or perform any activity that didn't involve gaping. Even swallowing was proving to be a challenge.

She always liked to tease him, but never quite so… _literally._

Did she think it was funny to watch him squirm?

Knowing Blair, she probably did.

He stood up simply because he couldn't take it anymore. He felt stupid, sitting and staring like that. He'd be drooling next, for crying out loud.

_Who's that girl?_

_I have no idea._

In Chuck's head, there were girls, and there was Blair.

It was just the way of the world.

There were girls, which he liked, or liked _a lot_, or wanted to see naked. Girls who were fun, kinky, shy, damaged, punishing, eager to please, exciting, _seductive_. And hell, if he was honest, he wanted to see _all_ of them naked.

And then there was Blair.

This isn't to say he was madly in love with her for his entire life and had to watch - with ache in his heart and tears in his eyes - as his best friend whisked her away on his white horse with his mother's hideously disproportional engagement ring.

Well, _probably_ not.

But either way, Blair Waldorf was just so… so _perfect_ and yet, so _not_. She fell into all the aforementioned categories in a way that made him think of her as some freak accident of nature, albeit a blessed one. Someone he liked hanging out with who was also hot. How quaint.

He never tired of that wicked, witty, adorable _Goddess._ Never a dull moment with that one. And as for sleeping with her… well, he was forbidden from thinking about it, but what was Nate's excuse? The _idiot_. Although, maybe Nate's celibacy had a point after all, if you thought about it. Because, s_leeping_ with Blair? With _Blair_? The mere idea was mind-boggling. You couldn't just sleep with Blair and move on your merry way. Oh, no. Blair was… _Blair_. How did one come out of that one with his sanity in tact? With the ability to move on with life?

If you slept with Blair, you _had_ to know it was forever.

And seeing how _Chuck's_ stupid best friend was stupidly in love with _Blair's_ stupid best friend, maybe it was best that Nate didn't seal the deal, because Blair Waldorf also deserved her carefully built fairytale.

Blair Waldorf deserved whatever the hell she wanted, and she usually got it, pleasantly or not.

And now, there she was, dancing on stage, _for him_. To spite him, more accurately, but still – he was the center of her attention for once. The target of the teasing glances over her shoulder? It was him. Her eyes never left his except when they were closed in pure relaxation.

The song urged him to come and try, and _God_ help him, he wanted to.

And _Chuck Bass_ couldn't look away to save his life. She cut loose, she taunted, she was evil, she was having fun and she didn't care that he was suffering. In fact, she _relished_ in it, drew pleasure from it. It was, simply put, _amazing_.

_He told her as much, and she _kissed him_._

_He asked her if she was sure since his mind was officially blown away._

_She never answered, which should have really drawn his attention._

_But before that…_

The song ended and she smirked in triumph, tossing her hair back one last time. The crowd went wild but she never even glanced at the positive attention she was getting. Instead, she tipped her head ever so slightly in a twisted sort of bow. _Done and done_, it seemed to say. Chuck raised his glass again, returning the sentiment. _And how_.

Quick as a cat, she turned around and walked straight through the curtains as if she owned the place. Figures she wouldn't just stoop back to the commoners when she had just revealed she was a queen.

Chuck smirked and made his way backstage.

There he found her in one of the rooms, sitting on one of the chairs, legs and arms crossed, waiting for him.

"Nice exit," he commented with a grin. "Very dramatic. Very fitting."

"Of course," she said, conveying everything he thought about before in two simple words.

He leaned on the wall, slipping into his own persona. Deadly and dashing, that was. "Did you have fun?"

Blair smiled, "Lots."

Chuck emitted a dramatic sigh, "Well, then my work on this earth is obviously done."

She stood up and sauntered brazenly over to him in her little white slip. "Done _well_, I should add."

The groan got stuck in his throat just barely. Damn it. What was this? Did the girl have no mercy and/or self awareness? What, did she forget he had _eyes_? Did she usually saunter around wearing nothing but lingerie? What a bitch.

_Get a grip, Chuck Bass._

With a deep breath, he was back with a bang – uh, smirk. "Wait," he drawled, "There's still one more thing left for me to do in this world."

Her smile widened. She was clearly enjoying herself. "Enlighten me."

Gently, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

Blair tilted her head in question.

"Would the lady require a ride home?"

:-:

**Your reviews are always the Best. Reviews. Ever. Please leave me some?**


	8. Seventeen Candles

**Disclaimer**: This show was not mine. I never would have even considered the thing with the lipstick cameras. Oh, Chuck. Don't ever change. Or how apparently the Navy is the same as Girl Scouts? Whatever. The point is, they're not mine.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D,)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

:-:

**Chapter 8**

**Seventeen Candles**

_**Spotted**_**: Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.**

**:-:  
**

"Nobody enjoys their first time," he murmured, almost apologetically.

Blair's smile traveled all the way to her eyes for the first time in quite a while. She had no presence of mind to control her emotions at that moment. She was exhausted and sated and was actually leaning against Chuck's head while not wearing underwear in a display of cliché she swore she'd never be. And with who! But she didn't care. It seemed like the best place to be resting one's head after having your world turned upside down.

Everything was just so… _perfect_.

Her smile widened even still. "Except me."

He kissed her.

She felt him smirk against her lips.

:-:

But when he fell asleep, exhausted himself and maybe a little drunk, repercussions started settling in, as they always inevitably do.

What just happened?

The extent of the stupidity of her recent actions was so overwhelmingly large that she couldn't even manage a list. Nate's face and Chuck's face and how she felt and what it meant and everything became muddled in her head. She couldn't even make a list.

She felt disgusted with herself.

Nate would be disgusted with her.

She chanced a glance at Chuck, who was sleeping peacefully with his arm around her.

That pig might be all amorous now, but he _will_ be disgusted with her as well. Chuck never respected the women he slept with. And to think, he used to hold her in such high regards. He used to see her as his equal.

That was over now.

So, she lost her boyfriend and one of her best friends in the course of one night.

Lovely.

None too gently, she pushed his arm away and pressed the button to stop. Chuck stirred in protest but otherwise remained sound asleep. And only when the limo stopped driving did she realize that she had sex in a moving vehicle while the driver was _two feet away_. How tinted were the windows? How much privacy did they have, really? How much more repulsive could she get?

She got out of the limo heavily and tried not to cry as she hailed for a cab in her little white slip and Chuck's jacket.

This was not her. This was _not_ her.

This was Serena, _not_ her.

This wasn't happening. This didn't happen. This will never be mentioned.

Chuck was an asshole; he'll act like it never happened, thank God. He'll sneer like he owned her but he'll keep his stupid mouth shut. Nate was his best friend. And Nate was her boyfriend. And as soon as the sun rose he would be again.

God damn it, it was her _birthday_.

Now she was crying in earnest.

:-:

A few hours later she was with Serena and all was forgotten.

Yes, it was. Like _that_.

Everything was as it should be. They were sprawled across Blair's bed with yogurts, going over the last details of her birthday party. Serena was telling her Dan Humphrey related antics while Blair was grateful for having a steady boyfriend who didn't require as much mental patience as Cabbage Patch.

Yes, she _did_ have a boyfriend. Or at least, she _would_ by the end of the day.

As it was, Blair eyed Serena suspiciously. "Well?"

Serena shrugged. "Well… nothing happened."

Blair raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Define… _nothing_."

"Well, we didn't say our prayers and fell asleep in separate beds," Serena chuckled, splaying out on Blair's bed in a way that would make anyone else look like a haggish clown – but not her. "But as for _that_… no."

_What_? No! "But you had a plan and everything!" she exclaimed, oddly embarrassed that Serena didn't have sex while _she_ had. Now she wasn't just a slut, she was the _only_ one. Everyone had managed to execute some restraint but _her_.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Serena laughed heartily. "Yes, God forbid we disobey the plan!" At Blair's annoyed glare, she frowned. "Blair, is everything alright? You seem even more high-strung than usual. I'm honestly worried about the public's safety."

What in the world wouldn't be alright? Aside from her fallen chastity, of course. She tried not to squirm guiltily. "… what are you talking about?" Her mouth did something that resembled a smile but was more barring of teeth maniacally. "I'm fine."

Serena rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. _I_ feel like you're about to bite me."

"It's not my fault you watch too many horror movies," Blair rolled her eyes. "Leave me out of it."

Putting her own yogurt down, Serena examined her closely. This time Blair couldn't resist squirming uncomfortably. Damn Serena. Sometimes Blair would walk around on the verge of tears for _days_ and Serena wouldn't notice, but _this_ she notices. Was it really so obvious that she had done the stupidest thing in the history of stupidity?

And she hadn't even been drunk! Aside from a few drinks she stole from the limo on the way over to Victrola… there had been nothing. No sweet alcohol to hide behind in shame. Even Nate had that going for him.

"How did things go last night?" Serena finally asked.

Whoa. Good guess. "You mean other than the police crashing the dinner party?" Blair retorted dryly, already calculating a way to have the incident with Nate's father explain away any oddity in her behavior. Was it a good enough reason to be this tense? Hell, it'd have to do.

Luckily, Serena seemed somewhat appeased. "Yeah, I read about that. How's Nate holding on?"

Blair shrugged, "My guess is… not well?"

"Your guess?" Serena repeated slowly.

Blair swiftly got off the bed and started rummaging through the closet. For what, she had no idea, since it was _her_ closet that she knew backwards and forwards. All these years of covering and pretending and _this_ was the best strategy she came up with? "You know how he is," she breezed, sifting through endless racks. "Brick wall and all. God forbid he'd ever _share_."

Again, Serena accepted this at face value. "Good point."

Blair wasn't listening any more. Too busy was she counting the reasons why she and Nate were the perfect couple. He was beautiful and delicate and just the match for her. Sweet, unsuspecting Nate, with his baggage of problems and desperate need of support.

He was troubled enough these days – no need to burden him with gory details of _any_ kind. Ever.

_No one _had to know about this.

"Nothing is beyond repair," Blair murmured, more to herself than anything.

Serena got up from the bed, apparently having noticed the twinge of forlorn in Blair's voice. She was intuitive and clueless at the same time, but then again, people loved that about Serena: she was a walking contradiction. Besides, who in their right mind would _ever_ guess Blair's real problem?

Hell, even Blair herself was happy to deny said problem. It had been fun like sleeping with Chuck had to be and nothing more. People had sex with each other all the time. It was the generation of promiscuity. She could think of it as a trial run. She always liked to come prepared. It was okay, for her first time.

_Just okay_.

"B, are you sure you're okay?" Serena asked softly, tucking a loose curl behind Blair's ear. "You seem… I don't know, weird."

Ugh, if she had to hear it _one more time_… "Well, since you're being pretty weird, I can assume this is a severe case of projection," she snapped, quite unkindly. "What's up with you?"

"Funny, I didn't know there was anything _up_ with me," Serena mused, looking rather amused. "But if we have to nitpick, then… well, Dan told Vanessa we would be having sex yesterday. I guess that's a little weird."

"Ew!" Blair almost shrieked, momentarily forgetting about her own problems in lieu of this new level of ickiness introduced in her life. "What? Are you serious?"

Serena laughed heartily, "No need to overreact."

Sometimes Serena was too carefree for her own good. Or maybe she was just faking it. Either way, telling other people about one's sexual activities is just… "Are you kidding?" she blenched. "That's totally-" her phone rang, cutting off her train of thought.

Blair retrieved it hastily, her chest fluttering. Could it… could it be that her problems with Nate were solved without her even _trying_? On his own volition for once?

Chuck's smirk flashed across the screen, even more insufferable now that it was tiny and badly colored.

She rolled her eyes. _Yeah, right_. Now there was a call she was planning on taking exactly never.

Serena watched curiously as Blair pressed 'ignore' like it was some sort of Karate killing blow. "Okay, what was that? Who was it and who were you hoping for?" she nudged her.

Blair fought against a blush. "Aren't we nosy today? It was nobody."

_Yes. Nobody. Absolutely no one worth mentioning, thinking of, or remembering_.

She was one of those women who woke up next to their worst nightmare and didn't understand _why_.

Oh dear God, she was living the term _Coyote Ugly_.

Serena nodded, "Uh-huh. And who were you hoping for?"

"Nate, obviously." She wasn't even lying this time. "I thought he might need to talk."

This time her phone beeped, indicating a text message. She already didn't like where this was going. It was doubtful that Nate would send her his heart and soul in a text message. A jab at her dignity, however, could be accomplished by much less. For a second she considered just deleting the text altogether; but no. Chuck didn't deserve that, she supposed.

She did hurt his pride, in a way. And it was not – painful as it was to admit – _entirely_ his fault.

**avoiding me? how predictable. 4 shame. **

Blair rolled her eyes. Figures he'd used text speak to ruin a classic saying. Also, how lame. He sounded more like a pouty little boy than an evil mastermind.

"Hang on," she told Serena, ignoring her inquisitive stare.

She quickly typed back:** any normal person would. **

Not her best, but she _was_ nervous.

A reply came a second later.

**that's what i said. predictable.**

**leave me alone.**

**where's the fun in that? **The smirk was practically evident, even through the dull, generic black letters.

She should have known this would happen. Like Chuck would ever let go of such delicious ammunition. Just because lately they had gotten along peacefully didn't mean it would last forever. In fact, it was a clear sign of danger. Just because he was tipsy enough to sleep through her untangling herself from him, and fleeing as if the limo was on fire without even bothering to direct his driver to her house – did _not_ mean he wouldn't remember at all.

Well, that's two hours of prayer gone down the drain. Thanks a lot, _Lord_.

Blair shut the phone with irritation. "Some people just don't let go, you know?"

Serena laughed. "Yeah, that's not suspicious at all."

"Don't try and change the subject," Blair snapped, even though she was the one who was technically doing it. She opened the closet door again as if they haven't gone through this girly stage already. Still, anything to avoid looking at another pair of human eyes.

"I can't believe he told her you guys were gonna _do it_," she murmured, quite appalled. Who would tell their friends about their sex plans, anyway? How tacky was that?

_Just grab Nate and finish this. Report back with details._

_If he finds me by midnight, when the masks come off, he can claim his prize._

Oh, shut up.

Maybe she did franchise sleeping with Nate a _bit_ too much. Fat lot of good that did, too.

"Well, I told you," Serena added, further proving the point.

Blair waved it off, "That's different. I'm a girl."

"Yeah, well, so is she."

"_Exactly_ my point."

:-:

Chuck Bass would never forget the one time he woke up in his limo naked and alone and was displeased with the last part. It was all usually pretty simple: the girls would be driven home (by his trusty driver who has seen more than his fair share of debauchery in the limo) with a feeling of immense satisfaction and a pleasant smile from Chuck, in case he was awake.

Not this time, though.

He wasn't sure about the expected afterglow protocol a girl like Blair would surely have, but he was willing to play along breakfast, _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ or possibly endless hours of a patented Waldorf meltdown. Either one was fine_;_ everythingwould have been better than being stranded as an afterthought. _Again_.

He rolled down the window, not even bothering to cover himself more than necessary.

"Mr. Bass?" the driver said calmly. "We are at the Palace Hotel."

Only then did Chuck notice they were parked by the hotel and the car wasn't in motion.

"How long have we been here?" Chuck asked, more to put his dried throat to work than anything. He really didn't care; he was pissed off and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

"A while," the driver answered.

Kudos to him for not waking him up. He deserved a raise.

"And the girl with me?" he narrowed his eyes. There was an off, _off_ chance she went up to his suite to freshen up. Or to Serena's suite to mourn her lost virginity. That was also alright, considering the worse option.

"The… lady left a couple of hours ago, hailed a cab," the driver answered calmly, as if this wasn't the most enraging thing in the world.

"And you didn't stop her?" Chuck spat.

For the first time, the driver seemed alarmed. "Sir? Was I supposed to? She seemed to be in a hurry."

Yeah, that bitch _would_ be in a hurry to clean up and forget the whole thing.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Chuck asked angrily, gathering his things and dressing quickly. His jacket was missing, he noticed. He'd like to think she took a keepsake, and not that she'd 'borrowed' it because she was so disgusted she didn't even want to stay long enough to be properly driven home.

Now the driver was sweating a bit. "Sir, I didn't-"

"Shut up," Chuck barked, storming out.

Scratch that raise, that idiot was _so _fired.

Now, don't get the wrong idea. It wasn't that he was hurt, per se.

It was just…

So, Blair Waldorf thought she could disappear before being dismissed? Try _no_. Absolutely no one in this world, male or female, was allowed to leave Chuck's presence before being properly dismissed. Except maybe his father. But definitely not _her_. If he had to charm, he would; if he had to threaten, blackmail or corner, he would. Unfortunately, he had a feeling this wouldn't do much good in this case.

So, he moved to the next best thing: manipulation with a capital M.

And he didn't even know why he was trying so hard.

Obviously, what he _should_ be doing was patting himself on the back for a job well done. He was no less entitled to tap that ass than Nathanial, if you disregarded the whole boyfriend thing. Besides, now he could allow his two best friends to continue their epic romance without the pressure of sex holding them back. He was such a giver, that Chuck Bass. Why, one could say he was almost doing _Nate_ a favor, taking the pressure off him.

Yeah.

Why, then, did he enter Tiffany's with such determination and snatched the one piece he _knew_ was meant to be purchased by a lover?

His stomach fluttered at the word. _Lover. _The lover of Blair Waldorf. The thought was oddly thrilling. Having Blair at his side, only for him, with those wicked brown eyes boring into his like there was nobody else in the room, in the world. _Hell, yes._ Then again, it would be the greatest challenge he had ever faced, and Chuck liked easy. Easy money, easy women. The only thing about Blair Waldorf that was easy was angering her.

Why, then, Chuck Bass? _Why_?

_Why_ was he such an idiot?

Why couldn't he stop replaying the memory of her purring in his ear? How pathetic was that?

It wasn't that great, anyway.

(Shut up)

His phone rang and it was Nate, but he let it go to voicemail. And not because he was feeling guilty, mind. Because he _wasn't_. Because they were _broken up_. Albeit for several hours, but still. Semantics were semantics. He just had to make sure Nate hadn't changed his mind yet again and was planning to interfere with Chuck's plans.

Not that he had any… oh, forget it. His excuses were getting lamer and lamer.

Screw it. He wanted Blair and he would goddamn get her.

And then dismiss her.

Just watch him.

:-:

Blair's hair was adorably splayed all over the pillow as she slept soundly. Chuck smirked to himself. Still had it. And yet, he couldn't explain it, but it annoyed him that she was once again paying exactly zero attention to him. No one made him feel quite as invisible as she did. He _hated_ it. It would simply not do. Slowly, his lips trailed a sensual trail all the way from her earlobe to the pulse point in her neck that made her squirm just minutes before.

Blair giggled, her eyelashes fluttering at the rather rude onslaught.

"This is the second time you fell asleep," Chuck said, doing nothing to hide the smugness from his voice. "Am I really that good?"

For a moment, Blair looked at him like she couldn't quite place her location and the circumstances which led her to be in bed with none other than _Chuck Bass_. And then she groaned, "Shut up."

"_Well_," Chuck drawled. "I was expecting some cuddling."

"Shut _up_."

His smirk widened. "Not in my nature to."

"_God_, did I notice," she closed her eyes, willing him to disappear.

_Au contraire_. Trying to escape only made him more prominent. "You're not overly quiet yourself, B," he reminded her softly, his voice cutting into her.

Blair shuddered at the thought. No, she hadn't been quiet. She had been loud and made weird sounds that couldn't have been attractive. She felt dirty and self-conscious. What Chuck must have thought of her, writhing under and over him like a slut with no self-awareness, making a fool of herself.

_God_.

"Chuck, what are you getting out of this?" she asked almost desperately. "I need to know the rules before I can play along. What do you want, exactly?"

"You," he answered easily, never skipping a beat. "You'd think it'd be obvious by now."

_Yeah, right._ Like anyone would want her after the display she had made, not once but twice already. Maybe Chuck was just _that_ much of a pervert. He seemed to enjoy himself just fine.

Maybe he was just making fun of her.

She winced at thought. "Yes, fine, but you've – ugh – _had_ me. Mission accomplished. What is it now?"

Chuck's hand grazed her ankle, slightly sliding up to rest against her knee in a motion that shouldn't be as sensuous as it was. "Well, I'm not _done_ wanting you," he drawled.

Blair shivered despite herself. Her mind edged as surreptitiously as possible to that place where she didn't care who and where they were and how she looked and how stupidly she was acting. This place that had only pleasure, no repercussions. This place where she was a girl lying in bed with a boy that adored her.

Still, she cleared her throat and straightened primly. "And when do you think you might be done?"

He shrugged. "I don't know; this is pretty unprecedented."

Against all her gut's protests, Blair grinned and shot his question back at him: "Am _I _really that good?"

"Oh, yes," Chuck said at once, making her blush slightly (because it was hot in the middle of winter). "I'm still trying to decide on whether it's a surprise." His hand on her knee rose even further as he murmured softly: "Cool exterior; the fire below."

_Oh, my_. Blair's breathing was a little too heavy for her liking. She wanted to be in control of this stupid, twisted situation. "Well, you're not bad either," she confessed dismissively like it was no big deal, how he made her feel. "I guess all that practice paid off."

"Yes, because my entire life has been in preparation for _this_," he chuckled.

"Your words, not mine," she giggled, momentarily enchanted by this new possible version of her life.

What a nice, romantic notion. It _would_ register better in her brain if this was all a ploy on his part to seduce the girlfriend of his best friend which he has loved in secret for years. He would have concocted said ploy while brooding in the shadows, watching the golden couple laughing and kissing. And who could blame an innocent girl for falling into Chuck Bass's trap?

But how did that story end, exactly? Who got the girl? Did the golden couple conquer the Dark Lord and his evil, hedonistic plans?

Or did the princess realize what a mistake she had been living?

Chuck looked at her, a small grin graced over his lips as her laughter froze and she was left gazing at a nondescript point in the ceiling in wonder.

"So, do you want to take out your pristine calendar and mark a date for next time?" he drawled, lulling her back to the real world where there was no royalty, only mistakes and bitter snap decisions.

She looked absolutely _aghast_ at the very thought. "What? Don't you have a single shred of shame?"

Jeez, sometimes he was tempted to think he had imagined the whole thing, the way she was acting. He wanted her; she was learning to want him. What shame? Wasn't it supposed to be easier? Wasn't he supposed to be over it now?

He straightened, almost in indignation. "I'm Chuck Bass."

_That's a 'no', then_? She rolled her eyes. "How could I ever forget who I was dealing with?"

"I'd say you didn't, considering the affinity you've developed for _moaning_ every syllable of my name," he reminded her, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He was terribly cliché when it came to seduction and he had hit just the target audience for that: Blair Waldorf; screenwriter, director, producer and main actress in her movie we call life. His hand, now resting on her thigh, edged a _little bit_ towards its target, careful not to alert the lady.

Not that Blair would have noticed a horde of elephants passing by, judging from the way all blood rushed to her ears. _Oh. Dear. God._ Why were these embarrassing details brought up? Why couldn't she be smoldering and _quiet_?

"I can't believe you were my first," she moaned.

If he had been a nice normal _Nate_ she would have remembered how a sex goddess acted and not lose control over her own body.

Chuck's slid closer to her. He decided to lavish attention on her neck, making her moan for a different reason. "And second," he purred proudly.

See? Control out the window.

She shivered, feeling more than hearing him. "This is so weird."

"That is not the reaction I was aiming for," he said, sounding amused as he traced butterfly kisses along her jaw.

Blair stroked his hair absently, guiding his movements. "I thought it'd be different," she deadpanned, staring ahead.

Not this again. _Stop ignoring me_! He wanted to shake her. But how would that be helpful? Instead he positioned himself on top of her, cutting off the rest of the world. Her eyes focused on his and she looked completely lost, but it was a start. "Different how?" he asked, almost tenderly.

She shrugged. "For one, I thought there'd be more love professions."

"Overrated," he snapped, suddenly feeling like a pathetic coward. What was a little _I love you_, anyway? There was no reason for his blood to freeze like this. Just because he had said it exactly never and never had it said to him? Pfft. "Actions speak louder than words," he said, promptly pressing against her in emphasis.

There was _one_ part of him that definitely _loved_ her.

Blair laughed at the obvious discomfort this subject brought on even though Chuck's body was obviously betraying him. Seemed like he was always up to the task when it came to her. How empowering. Two points for the ex-virginal flower. "And here I thought you'd do anything to satisfy a girl," she teased, pushing his buttons further.

If he suddenly had this weird ability to control her body, it was only understandable that she'd try and fight back by controlling his mind.

This was Blair Waldorf, see.

And Chuck knew this. Every nerve in his body told him to _run._

_Dismiss her now, Charles_. Before she ruins you like she ruins everyone who disappoints her. If you can't act like Nate and look like Nate and just be all around as Nate-like as possible, _run_; because Nate was the only one who had a free pass when it came to Blair Waldorf. Nate could cheat and it was all good and fine, but if Chuck made a single step sideways, he was toast.

_Dismiss her now_, urged the single cell in his body that had any sense at that particular moment.

He watched her watch him with a victorious smirk splayed across her lips.

Yeah, he wasn't going anywhere, and neither were the aforementioned butterflies. Seemed like he was her momentary doormat. _Momentary_! And with benefits! But a doormat nonetheless.

Hell, he was so turned on.


	9. Blair Waldorf Must Pie!

**Disclaimer**: This show was not mine. I would not make people wait for MONTHS! How was the new episode, guys? Haven't gotten around to seeing it yet.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D…)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

**Note:** This chapter is unfortunately unbetad, which I realize could lead to all kinds of disasters and crime against the fine English language. Just a few days ago I wrote "ontology" instead of "anthology" on a paper. Yes, I know, how stupid is _that_? So anyway, if you see an error, please let me know. Really, it's for my own good. Also, I'm so sorry for taking so long! The show already has a season and a half on me! Stoning would be an appropriate punishment. I don't even want to see how long it's been… thanks for still reading, though!

:-:

**Chapter 9**

**Blair Waldorf Must Pie**

_**"While the cat is away, the mice will play."**_

_**:-:  
**_

It took a long, hot shower to get the Brooklyn out of her hair and ten minutes of brushing her teeth to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth from vomiting and then proceeding to eat a sandwich that was _anything_ but delicious (contrary to what she told Serena). Blair felt refreshed and clean. Of course, she was still an ugly cow, but at least she was a _clean_ ugly cow.

She combed her hair and took in the calming silence. She was alone. Finally alone.

Well, perhaps being alone wasn't her first choice, but… well.

It's not like she needed her father or anyone in her life. Especially people who didn't want to be in it.

It was just too bad that it seemed like _no one_ really wanted to be in it. Serena had her glittery blond family to get reacquainted with. Blair had no such luck. Just because her mother consented to suffer through a few minutes of tea before a business call forced her into the office, didn't mean she actually enjoyed her daughter's company. Blair would have drunk pity-tea with a broken down mess like her as well, especially if she had been unfortunate enough to conceive her.

Whatever. At this point, Blair was beyond needing her mother as well.

She did need a stupid boyfriend, though. Didn't really matter who, as long as he looked good by her side whenever she needed him. Aesthetics were important, see. Also, that way she could avoid sleeping with Chuck Bass whenever he so much as tilted his head in invitation.

Ugly, fat, weak, pathetic and also _a slut_, to top it off. Just great.

She put on her favorite silk nightie even though she hardly saw the point in it. What she wanted to do was crawl into bed in one of her father's old t-shirts and fall asleep to _My Fair Lady_, if only to draw some comfort from the fact that at least in movies, filthy, inarticulate, insufferable girls got some love in the end. There was no real reason for her to groom as much as she did.

Still, though, she had to admit that the silky blue material that clung lovingly to her skin cheered her up some. If no one wanted to touch her ever again, at least she'd always have her pretty clothes to keep her warm at night.

A knock on her bedroom door disrupted the less-than-cheery direction her thoughts drifted to.

Damn it, she told Dorota no visitors! And without proper announcement as well! Clearly, Dorota wasn't her best after a whole night of tending to the party guests. Good help was so hard to find these days.

Blair flung the door open, good and ready to scream her head off at Katty or Iz or whoever the hell dared disturb her self-pity party.

Only to be faced with Chuck Bass.

CHUCK BASS!

She didn't even have any make-up on! Not to mention a robe or the amount of energy required to survive an encounter with him with her clothes on.

"Chuck!" she gasped, fighting a sudden urge to pass out.

"Blair," he greeted calmly, grinning from ear to ear. He looked her up and down and his grin widened beyond the realm of possibility. She looked scandalized and delectable and certainly worth the 10-hour-long flight he had to suffer in order to get here.

Blair straightened her back, drawing strength from what she assumed was his scrutinizing stare and derisive grin. She might not look her best but neither did he, with his wrinkled suit and mussed hair. She raked her mind for something not retarded to say.

"Aren't you supposed to be in…" What did Gossip Girl say? Not that she had looked or anything, but she happened to catch a _spotted_ with his plans for Thanksgiving. Although, standing so close to him after the day she had was making her a bit forgetful. _What was it_? "Rome?" she tried faintly.

Chuck smirked, ridiculously pleased that she had bothered to check his whereabouts for this inane holiday. He closed the space between them, taking note of the way her back stiffened and her breath hitched.

"Yes," he answered silkily, tucking a stray bang of soft brown hair behind her ear. "But one should be with his loved ones during the holidays."

Blair would have melted at his words had she believed even a syllable of them. She managed to be annoyed at the blatant way he invaded her personal space instead. "Right," she said briskly, brushing his hand off. "Then why aren't you with _yours_?"

Chuck smiled like she was being slow and pushed her back gently, thus pushing his way into her room. Alarm bells started going off in her head when he closed the door with his foot and positioned himself directly in front of her, his lips a breath away from hers.

Honestly, considering Chuck's one-track mind, his plans for the evening weren't _that_ hard to decipher.

Uh-oh.

He never bothered to answer her question, of course. As if he _had _any loved ones.

"And how is my lovely Queen B?" he asked quietly, growing bolder by the minute.

She pursed her lips and shivered slightly – whether from excitement or wariness, she'd never know. What the hell was he trying to achieve with those sweet – if disturbingly possessive – insinuations? Surely he didn't want to get any ideas in her head, did he? Blair was certainly very reluctant about even considering the possibility that Chuck Bass was anything more than a manipulative scoundrel.

Was he trying to make her fall for him so that he could control her?

Oh, not on his life.

"I'm a bit bored with this conversation," she snapped, surreptitiously wrapping her arms around herself as a shield. She might as well have been naked, with her suddenly highly inappropriate slinky nightgown.

With a stroke of genius, Chuck realized that her irritation was not entirely for his benefit. She was obviously baiting him in hopes of starting a fight and Chuck struggled to suppress his glee over the situation. She never could resist him when she was bitter. He searched his brain for a possible trigger to her delicious vicious streak.

What had gone wrong?

By all means, she should have been in the living room, happily snuggled under her father's arm with a box of tissues (for _Breakfast at Tiffany's_), and on the table, two plates of pumpkin pie – one half eaten and one merely nibbled on.

Yes, okay, it was not the first time he had invaded the Waldorf home at this innate and _lonely_ holiday his father never bothered to acknowledge. Mr. Waldorf was always ever so accommodating, even in the light of his daughter's dark glares at their guest, who dared interrupt the few times a year she had her daddy all to herself.

Hmm, everything suddenly seemed so clear.

"I didn't see your father downstairs," he murmured, testing the waters.

Blair didn't disappoint and he received his well-deserved infamous Waldorf Dark Glare (Inc.). It usually took some prodding to get her _this_ annoyed – things must have gone bad.

"What, you _looked_?" she hissed.

His smirk was carefully monitored. Too much would get him kicked out on the curve. Too little might seem sympathetic and put her on the defensive side – resulting with him being kicked out on the curve. He was aiming for _just so_. "Usually there'd be heartwarming snuggling by the fireplace, no?"

Her glare intensified but her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. It was how he knew he was winning. And if some dark corner of his seldom-used heart felt bad about using Blair's pain as a way of getting her into bed, he paid it no mind. Ultimately, he reasoned, digging her nails angrily into his back would make her feel better.

Blair wanted to sigh but that would be a blatant sign of defeat. Instead, her eyes narrowed impatiently. "Chuck, is this really what you came here for?"

"My, my, no need to be so crude, Blair," he smirked, pleased that she didn't seem as scandalized as he feared she would be. "Didn't you have a good holiday?" he pressed.

"Best ever," she answered just a sweetly. "Especially since _you_ were away. Well, until now."

Chuck's smirk threatened to expand into a grin. This, here, was what he lived for. How sick was that? "I wonder if you thought I'd really be offended by that remark."

"I could only hope," Blair snapped.

Quick as the wind, Chuck's lips found their way to her ear. He planted a gentle kiss right under it and despite herself, she gasped at the sudden pleasure from such a simple action. It was as if she was powerless to push him away but she knew that wasn't true. She knew just what she was doing. She knew what Chuck embodied, the sweet feeling that came from losing all sense of culpability. Everything was allowed with Chuck because he didn't care, because he didn't live in the world and neither did she. Or at least, she didn't want to.

Something was wrong with her because she wanted this.

"I have no problem with you venting out your anger on me," Chuck whispered, planting another kiss on that perfect spot like only he knew how.

"I'm not angry!" she protested, jolted awake by his vulgar statement of the truth. She managed to pull away but not enough, as he held her firmly by the hips. The result was that again they stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips-to-lips.

Blair wasn't sure this new position would help with the fortitude she was trying to achieve. Maybe it was better when she couldn't see him, when she was only close enough to feel his hot breath on her skin, whispering promises into it.

Maybe not.

Chuck raised his eyebrows. He didn't even have to verbally tease her about the fact that she wanted this as much as he did. She knew he noticed and he knew she knew. Such was the level of their synchronicity.

"I mean, except at _you_! I'm angry at _you_." she added quickly, frustrated. "God, you're so annoying!"

He took her hands in his, first the left and then the right. She was struck with the way it made her feel, understood and enveloped, connected and adored. It was really the smallest of gestures. Nate used to hold her hand a lot but it never felt like _this_. With Chuck it was like they were building a fortress only they were allowed to enter.

He chuckled, sounding surprisingly warm. "I'll have you know, annoying you doesn't always come easy."

Blair refused to soften; her bitterness still simmered too close to the surface. "Thank _God_ for that!" she snapped, though her voice was just a tiny bit too mild for her liking.

To Chuck it was like a white flag waving over the horizon. Getting through Blair's defense shields, even the tiniest crack, pleased him more than getting a girl to strip fifteen minutes after getting her name. He became aware of the butterflies just as he realized this, after their first night when she told him to stay away from her. At the time, he had freaked out and denied it; now he was resigned.

"Tell me what happened," he urged, voice barely above the whisper.

He knew she wouldn't.

Blair felt a telling tear prickling at the corner of her eye but she refused to yield. Chuck asked her two things: to surrender her body and to surrender her heart. She had no doubt that with her heart he'd do nothing good and his motives for asking for it in the first place were questionable. Was it a trophy he wanted? A game to play? She couldn't tell. With her body, however…

He let go of one of her hands and cupped her cheek gently. Too gently. "Blair…"

"Shut up," she snarled as she grabbed a handful of unusually messy hair and brought his lips crashing against hers. She never let go of his other hand.

Chuck didn't bother to act surprised. He spent ten hours daydreaming about this and he knew it wouldn't last. She was just proving a point and would soon push him away but he didn't care, this was too good. He kissed back with equal fervor until she pulled back. Her eyes were so dark they were almost black. He could only imagine what _he_ looked like.

"See," he murmured hoarsely, lightheaded despite himself. "This is more the welcome I had hoped for."

Blair's breath was heavy, causing her chest to rise and fell, an ever-so enticing sight that served to skyrocket his inexplicable need for her.

"I thought I told you to _shut up_," she said, pushing him in the direction of the bed.

Chuck smirked, his hand on her cheek lowering to her neck, her collarbone. "Gladly, if this is the reward for my silence."

:-:

Blair opened her eyes, slowly coming back to the land of the living. Only to find herself on her bed, naked and with a naked Chuck Bass stuck to her like the best quality Falke stockings money can buy.

Panic seeped in. When had she fallen asleep? At no point was falling asleep part of the plan. The room was dark but the drapes were shut. What time was it? Why was he here? She wanted to run and hide.

Then again, she was so tired and he was warm and comfortable. How easy it would be to just sink back into him and forget who they were for a little while.

But no.

_Danger_.

She shoved him away from her, rousing him into consciousness. He looked at her sleepily, his hair even messier than before. Had he not been the devil incarnated, it would have been the cutest sight she has ever seen.

But he _was_.

She groaned. "_Please_ tell me you didn't spend the night?"

Chuck glanced at the clock behind her head, making no move to get up. At least she exhausted him just as much as he did her. All things considered, it was quite flattering. "No, it's been an hour." He smirked and added, "Since we were _done_, of course."

Blair buried her face in the pillow in an effort to evaporate. "Why does this keep happening?"

"Desire that will not quench?" Chuck suggested silkily, his hand finding her thigh under the blanked and stroking it in long, languid motions that he knew she liked.

She settled back without realizing it. Her thoughts were still focused solely on what she had let happen, yet again. Sleeping with Chuck once was a mistake, twice was an inexplicable slip, three times made it a dirty habit. Worse, a _pattern_.

"No need to look so scandalized, Queen B," he chuckled good-naturedly. "You'll wound my ego."

She couldn't stop the amused grin that parted her lips by force. Apparently, sex had the magic ability to make him agreeable in her eyes. "Please," she scoffed, looking up at him. "Like that has ever happened and/or is even possible."

He looked way more pleased with himself than he had any right to be. "If anyone could, it'd be you."

Well, wasn't _that_ a great way to make a girl feel special? So maybe no one would ever lover her and maybe she would always be Serena's less pretty, less fun, less adorable, less likable, less everything friend, BUT she had a good chance of hurting Chuck Bass' _feelings_ if she really put her mind to it.

So in his eyes, and consequently the world's, she was nothing more than the evil witch, destined to live in the shadow of the fairy princess.

She lowered her eyes, feeling the knot reform in her throat.

Chuck softened immediately, the smirk dropping from his lips. "Blair," he nudged. Not _Waldorf, _not _B_, just _Blair_. "Blair," he nudged again. "Look at me."

She looked up, her lower lip trembling slightly.

"You know me pretty well by now, don't you?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," she rolled her eyes, no longer brittle. Simply resigned.

It would have been obvious to anyone who cared to look, that Chuck Bass was resorting to his most basic, cave-men instincts. Like girl. Like girl smiling. Make girl smile.

Otherwise known as _love_.

He pulled her closer, just a tiny bit. Enough for her to catch the scent of his aforementioned _natural musk_, mixed with his fine cologne and her soft perfume. He always did smell good. She used to like burying her face into his neck when they danced at society events. Of course, as they got older she had to stop, since it could lead to unnecessary complications and misunderstanding.

Ha!

Irony always got the last laugh.

"So you know," he continued, unaware of the whirlwind of directions her thoughts scattered to. "You know that, on rare occasions, you can just talk to me. And I'll listen quietly."

"Not anymore," she said, a bit sadly.

_I've lost you now_, she didn't add.

Chuck smirked knowingly. "Why, because I've seen you naked?"

"Too many times too, and in full light," she sighed.

Chuck let out an unexpected chuckle, the kind that rumbled against her skin where they were still touching and caused her to shiver.

He shook his head. "Only _you_ would come to such a stupid conclusion that makes absolutely no sense and make it sound like general knowledge," he noted in amusement. At her annoyed glare, he asked quietly: "What happened?"

His tone of voice was the last straw. Like the camel in the story she felt herself folding, cracking under the pressure. He won this time.

"He didn't come to see me," Blair answered, even quieter. The words were out before she agreed to set them loose. "He didn't even _call_."

Chuck stiffened immediately, any and all traces of amusement slipped from him. This he didn't want to hear; this he didn't want to help her with. "… Nate?" he sighed, almost inaudibly.

Blair rolled her eyes like it was the stupidest thing she ever heard. "Not _Nate_, my _father_. I haven't seen him for _a year _and he didn't even see fit to call me?"

He sagged against her in relief but tried not to show it. He almost blurted a _'that's it? Thank God!_' but fortunately managed to stop himself at the last minute. That would have fallen on deaf ears and gotten him shoved off the bed. While the most he could hope from his father was a frosty acknowledgement that he fathered him in the first place (by calling him _'son' _on occasions), he knew Blair relied on her father to attest to her beauty and brains, her worth as a person.

The year without him or Serena had been a trying year indeed. For others, of course. Chuck had enjoyed to no end the seething bitch that Blair turned into seemingly overnight. Nate never appreciated it much, on the other hand. He used to complain about Blair going on and on about things like _destruction_ and _humiliation_, plotting against anyone who so much as looked at her in a way that didn't sit well with her.

Obviously Chuck, as an active part in most of those plots, didn't really see the problem.

In those days no one had been safe.

And this year, with Serena back but with a luggage of trouble the size of Canada, this year has been volatile for everyone. He could only imagine how much she needed her precious daddy.

Actually, he didn't even have to imagine it. She had been quite verbal about it before Thanksgiving.

"Why wouldn't he call?" he frowned. Harold Waldorf was nothing if not nurturing.

"Oh, you'll _love_ this part," Blair spat. "Because my mother told him _I didn't want him to_. And he believed her without even questioning it. Does that even sound like something I would do?"

Chuck smirked. "In a heartbeat."

"But he's my father!" she insisted, scowling.

Chuck took advantage of the fact that she was distracted by her vehemence to pull her closer until she was flush against him. He released a secretive little sigh of contentment at the contact. "You know how convincing Eleanor Waldorf can be," he reasoned. "She convinces _you_ about everything."

Blair's gaze shot up to connect with his. "No, she _commands_ me. Big difference. It doesn't matter, anyway. Even if he did believe her, he should have come and set things straight. He should have fought for my forgiveness. Isn't that what fathers do? Doesn't he care that I supposedly hate him?"

By now she was close to tears and too hurt to care that he was watching.

"Maybe flying makes him sick," he suggested softly.

Blair's glare would have made babies cry and dogs run away. "Really, Chuck? That's the best you can do?"

He swallowed hard and braced himself. "I can't think of another reason why someone wouldn't drop everything and travel half the globe just so that they could wish you a happy Thanksgiving," he said softly, disbelieving himself but too far gone to care. He tipped her chin upwards so that she was forced to look at him. "I did."

Blair stared, shell-shocked to the core. Such a romantic, dizzying statement could _not_ have been issued for _her_ by _Chuck _effing _Bass_. These were the sort of statements Serena got to hear from the love sick puppies that followed her around wherever she went. No one would do something like that for Blair Waldorf – they would have to be demented.

Then again, Chuck Bass was certainly that.

His eyes were soft but his jaw firm, in response to her obvious skepticism.

Blair was moved beyond comprehension. Her lungs refused to transfer oxygen to her brain. One could even say she was _swooning_. She couldn't stop the horde of butterflies that got loose in her stomach – now she understood how Chuck must have felt. That Basstard always knew just what to say, didn't he?

She knew she'd start crying unless she did something so she kissed him, hard, positioning herself over him for better access.

Everything slipped away. Suddenly they were alone in the world. It was magnificent.

"Well played, Bass," she breathed, smirking, almost jovial now.

"I know you, Waldorf. Blair." His voice was silk against her skin, deadly in its seriousness. He liked making breathy declarations when they were in these compromising positions, she noticed. "I know you, backwards and forwards." Their lips met briefly, desperate to taste. "I know you've hated me until just now," he murmured softly. "I know you're still a little disgusted by this. Nothing that can't be healed with a bit time."

His words struck her with their honesty. It was true; she couldn't hate him anymore for making her lose control, for helping her escape. She couldn't blame him. She couldn't love him for it, either.

She looked at him shyly from under her eyelashes. "Does that mean you're planning to stick around?" she asked, more vulnerably than she would have liked.

Chuck simply returned her gaze, not answering. She realized _that_ type of declarations was a bit too much for the unholy Chuck Bass. However, the fact that he didn't immediately break into vehement denials and run away spoke volumes. Instead, one of his hands found hers again and closed around it. A silent promise to adore her for just a little while longer.

Blair's lips parted in a smile. Chuck's cheeks reddened damningly and it only caused her smile to widen.

She swallowed back the last of her reservations and asked:

"Spend the night?"

:-:

Good, bad, mediocre? Let me know! Please?


	10. High Society

**Disclaimer: **Oh my God, poor Chuck will be lying in a ditch for the next several _months_. I would never do this, therefore the show isn't mine.

**Summary: **More often than not, Blair and Chuck have conversations that Blair later edits out of the perfect movie that is her life, never to be remembered again. Starts from the Pilot and goes from there.

**Pairings: **Primarily Chuck\Blair, but all the cannon pairings – which, this show being awesome, would take about three pages and would look like the alphabet gone mad (Example: C\B, C\N, S\N, S\D…)

**Spoilers: **Every chapter would center on a new episode, so…

**Note: **the chapter is un-beta-ed, so please let me know if you spot any mistakes. I hope you like this chapter – it's the last "happy" one in a while. From now on it's all angsty and bitter. Ah, season 1. You are missed. Sorry for taking too long, as usual. A few abandoned HP fics have been updated recently, after – honest to God – _years_, and it gave me the inspiration to leave this chapter alone and just post it, for heaven's sake.

:-:

**Chapter 10**

**Hi Society**

_**"Who's taking whom?"**_

_**:-:  
**_

_**blair! OMG! say it isnt so!**_

Blair paled, reading the line over and over. She had just logged into IM for a second and was already eager to leave. Lately, what with her hysterical paranoia taking up any time she had left after Chuck and his _insatiable_ appetite, she barely had time to check out Gossip Girl, let alone any other social networks. But Is had some pictures she wanted to send Gossip Girl that had to go through Blair's approval and Blair, feeling guilty for neglecting her kingdom, had logged on to fulfill her duties. That was when Kati's stupid message popped in her face and ruined _everything_.

Her stomach dropped.

Busted.

She _knew _his would happen. She was stupid to let this continue. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She tried to think straight over the drumming of her heart but it was no easy task. What should she do? Beg for mercy? Deny? Be outraged? No, that would be the worst thing to do. That would look suspicious and everyone would know.

_Everyone would know._

Another message flashed.

_**blair! tell me everything!**_

She paled even further, undoubtedly breaking some record and putting the best of ghosts to shame. _As if_ she was going to share _anything_ with _anyone_ about _that_.

No, she'd just deny incredulously and laugh it off. Yes. Chuck was a sleazebag; everyone knows she wouldn't touch him with a ten feet pole. She'll just be all "He wishes," like she always did when asked if she ever thought about conducting in a little best friend swap. And she was asked, repeatedly and often. Chuck had a habit of getting really close to people when he spoke to them, especially her, and sometimes their outfits matched, so people wondered. Honestly, this would not be the first time there were illicit rumors floating around about Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass.

It was simply the first time the rumors would be true.

Nevertheless, as long as there was no photographic evidence, she could easily write this off.

_**blair!**_

Oh right.

She put on her most virginal and angelic face, just in case Katy could somehow see her through magic, and tried to still her shaking hands as she quickly typed a reply._**what r u talking about?**_

_**u and prince T! I hrd he's taking u to cotil!**_

"Oh my God," Blair breathed out loud, sagging with relief. That was all? The _Cotillion_? She was becoming alarmingly paranoid and there was no reason to. So far she and Chuck had covered their tracks like only they could, albeit Chuck was annoyingly sloppy about it at times. This was a source of endless exasperation where Blair was concerned. It was like he _wanted_ them to get caught!

:-:

Just the other day, Blair had been walking home as regally as possible, considering the irritating wind building up and the high heels she was wearing, as per custom. Winter offered fabulous clothes but also often depraved her of the precious time a day in which she could walk home by herself, free and relaxed, away from scrutiny. No, instead she was forced to search some other means of transportation or suffer the humiliation of swaying like a drunk sailor all the way home.

With a start, she realized she couldn't remember a single winter in which she didn't ride home in Chuck's limo on harsh winter days. If she didn't outright climb into his limo without even asking, he always offered, and it never occurred to her that her place wasn't on his way.

Had he always been such a big part of her life?

So distracted was she by this unsettling realization, that she failed to notice the very limo of her thoughts trailing slowly next to her.

Inside, Chuck eyed her from behind the tainted window, on the verge of rolling it down but hesitant despite himself.

He, unlike Blair, was not as oblivious. He had always noticed Blair Waldorf, but thought nothing of it. Blair's mother was a fashion designer with endless supplies of fashionable apparel and Blair was beautiful – who could blame him, really? He noticed everyone who was worth noticing, manipulative and observant as he was, but some people were just more… noticeable than others. With those lips, and those legs, her underestimated wit, her cleverly hidden cruel streak, and he was Chuck Bass, alright? To expect anything else would be naïve.

Blair Waldorf was also among the few and precious people he actually considered friends, as opposed to acquaintances and conquests. Didn't it make sense for a man to be a perfect gentleman to his lady friends? Open doors, pull out chairs, offer his arm when descending stairs, offer rides when possible? He had his own limo, for heaven's sake. It's not like it was that far out of his way home. He did the same for Serena, too. When he remembered. Sometimes.

Whatever. Serena was more one of the guys, a loyal party and drinking buddy, and she got enough inappropriate chivalry from Nate. Blair Waldorf was used to being treated like a princess by her father, and in the wake of his absence and Nate's oblivion, demanded this treatment from the rest of the world. Mainly Chuck. He obliged her because he saw no reason not to. He preferred her endearingly appeased at being worshipped than lashing out and hating herself.

Even now, hungrily watching her visibly struggling with the wind, as he plotted a secluded afternoon with her in his suite's hot tub, he still refused to believe there was more to it than platonic gentlemanly behavior.

Friends with benefits. The term wasn't coined for nothing.

Finally pleased with his barely-there reasoning, he rolled down the window and smirked as she stiffened, startled at being cornered by the very object of her musings.

"Need a ride?" he asked huskily.

To Blair, that innocent question sounded like he was screaming at the top of his lungs an invitation for her to get naked and sweaty.

The blood drained from the rest of her body to concentrate on her cheeks. "Chuck!" she whispered furiously, mostly angry at herself for how tempted she was to agree with hardly any prompt on his part. Damn that limo, it was an irresistible, portable heaven. Comfortable and isolated from the world. "What are you doing! Someone will see!"

"See me offer you a ride home?" he asked, still smirking although now more bitter than suggestive. "Scandalous."

Blair's eyes darted around dramatically, as if she were in a spy movie.

Chuck followed her gaze with amusement before rolling his eyes. She was more adorable than people gave her credit for. Behind the level-headed ice queen hid a little girl who loved playing dress up games. Why, a mere two days ago she showed up at his suite wearing a long trench coat and dark sunglasses even though it was the middle of the night and unusually warm. His uncontrollable laughter at this film-noir Halloween costume promptly died in his throat when the coat slid off her shoulders to reveal an abundance of delectable creamy skin, unspoiled by any article of clothing.

Ha. _Memories_.

"Blair, the coast is clear," he tried speaking in the ridiculous Hollywood language she'd understand. "Get in the car before we're spotted!"

Blair hesitated. Should she really? Should she give into temptation so easily, and in broad daylight, too? Surely she should have more self-control than this at this point.

Fed up with her everlasting holier-than-thou proper-young-lady routine, a much less favorite of his than the diabolical-sex-goddess one, Chuck opened the door and called loudly: "Get in so we can _HAVE SEX_!"

"Chuck!" she squealed, diving into the limo and landing on top of him. The driver started driving immediately, no doubt having been ordered to do so, in case she changed her mind and tried to flee. But she didn't plan on leaving without giving him a piece of her mind. She was absolutely livid at the nerve of him. "What are you doing? Are you _trying_ to ruin everything?"

Only when she noticed his darkened eyes fixed on her lips, did she realize how compromising her position was, with her thighs holding his hips in place and her body sinfully pressed again his. He seemed to enjoy their current situation way more than was appropriate, considering the fact that she was berating him. Then again, this was Chuck Bass.

It was amazing, how well she fit with him. It always created the most delicious friction. His hands slipped under her skirt, stroking the smooth skin of her thighs in lazy circles. "Make me," he purred, in that smoldering voice that drove her good-crazy in the right moments and very-bad-dangerously-crazy in the wrong ones.

This was a right moment.

However, she wasn't about to let him win so easily, lest he thought she was easy to manipulate. She took hold of his wandering hands and pinned them over his head. "I guarantee you won't like it if I do," she breathed. The feeling of control was getting to her head.

He chuckled, "Come now, Blair, you ought to know me better than that by now."

Did she ever.

:-:

_**Blair! Where r u? talk 2 me!**_

Blair shivered, pulling herself away from her traitorous imagination. She hated the Chuck daydreams; they made her feel clingy and pathetic. It was bad enough she was involved with him in the first place. In fact, it was disastrous. There was no need to spend more imaginary time with him than the outrageous amount she already was.

_**i'm here**__, _she typed quickly, trembling again but for different reasons this time._**how did u find out?**_

Not that she cared, really. Kati finding out about _this_ was just fine by her. However, if someone made it their business to look into her personal affairs too closely and was actually _spying_ on her – that was an entirely different matter.

_**h heard u talking.**_

Ah, Hazel, whose pointy nose fit perfectly with her nosy personality. Someday she would take that girl down and enjoy every minute of it, but right now she was actually doing Blair a service.

_**h said he was hawt 4 u!**_

Blair smiled to herself, remembering the poor, socially-awkward prince as he said he would be honored if she agreed to allow him to accompany her to the cotillion. Yes, that was the mile long sentence he used, and it took him double the time you'd think to say it, with all the blushing and stuttering. Royalty left little time for courtship, apparently. Unless he was just faking humility to appear more appealing, which she didn't mind because she did the same thing often and well.

He was nice but she couldn't care less. She had felt powerful and better yet, desirable. But more importantly, having a date was a huge relief.

With Nate out of the picture, she should have been working extra hard to secure herself a suitable date, possibly one that would rub in his face how over him she was, but Chuck took way too much of her time and attention. Sometimes she wondered if he was doing that on purpose, and then immediately wondered why he would bother. Most of the time she wondered what his motives were in general when it came to her.

He was Chuck Bass and he should have been over her a long time ago. He should not have been seeking her out so persistently, and even acting, at times, like a jealous boyfriend.

All this wondering took up most of the little energy she had left after all the sex and other obligations. She simply couldn't bring herself to get invested in the ball beyond the regular duties of organizing it. She even found herself pondering if she should just ask Chuck to accompany her _as friends and nothing more_ and save her the tedious business of finding a date or humiliating business of asking help with finding it.

But that was an absolute _faux pas_ that she should not even be entertaining and every time she did, she felt like slapping herself silly. Asking Chuck Bass, indeed! If anyone needed to make an appearance with the perfect date, it was her. She and Serena had dreamt about this for years and it was her night to shine. _The New York Times_ was featuring a story about her, for God's sake. And she needed the perfect gentleman by her side.

To think, a prince! Way better than a stupid Archibald. And if it worked out with her and the prince – which only took him keeping up appearances and not being a rapist and/or a psycho – she would return to her rightful place. A queen. Well, a princess, sitting beside her dashing prince. This time she wouldn't even have to get emotionally invested, since prince Theodore spent most of his time abroad in his country whose name she had forgotten as soon as she was told.

Sex wouldn't be an issue either, seeing how that bridge had been crossed, courtesy of Chuck. She had her fun, her _Girls_ _Gone_ _Wild_ adventure, and now she could concentrate on the more important aspects of life.

_Don't think of Chuck_, she chided herself. He had no place in her perfect life. He was just the villain, the town's hedonistic vampire that kept to the shadows, luring innocent maidens into his luxurious lair. Wanting him wasn't forbidden because he wasn't from this world, because he had the power of seduction. What was forbidden was to act on it – which she wouldn't. She would never. She wasn't a cheater, unlike _some_. What she was doing now didn't count as anything.

For a moment, she imagined her future, with Nate or the prince. In a mansion or a castle, wearing the sharpest clothes fashion had to offer for the wealthy society wives. Knowing her husband wouldn't be home and not even being sad about it. Knowing he would be with her best friend, his secretary, his secretary of state, and not even being angry about it. Because her prescribed medicine would only allow for _numb_. Getting rid of unhappy wrinkles, unflattering stretch marks and wondering why she even bothered, since her husband wouldn't care.

In other words, turning into Ann Archibald.

Blair managed not to shudder, but couldn't control the painful contraction in her chest. She took deep breath, weary of gagging so soon after her last slip.

Her phone rang, startling her. Boy, she was attacked by all sorts of technology today. She pressed 'send' without looking, expecting another curious friend begging for details.

It wasn't.

"Blair."

That deep drawl, cold and soft at the same time.

Her mind went blessedly blank, his voice viciously demolishing any lingering images of The Life of Blair Archibald.

She swallowed and adopted a formal tone. "Yes?"

This formality affected him not one bit. Honestly, at this point, _he_ knew _her _better than to be dissuaded by anything short of her calling the police. "I'm downstairs, in the limo," he said simply. "Come down."

Her stomach fluttered with excitement despite herself. What was wrong with her? She should be annoyed that he didn't call ahead and simply assumed she would throw away anything else she might have been doing and run to him. She should be annoyed at his lack of manners, poetry, romance, anything. He didn't even say please! She should be anything _but_ giddy.

She glanced at the computer screen, where Katy was getting fussier by the second. It would probably be better to pump her with a bit more information, just enough to pass the rumor around so that everyone would know by tomorrow. It would also be better to refuse Chuck and send him on his way. Just so he doesn't presume she was at his disposition at all times.

Then again, she didn't _want _to say no. Knowing him and his affinity for spontaneous and lurid encounters, she constantly wore the sexiest lingerie money could buy, just to be prepared. It would be a terrible shame to waste it.

She grinned wickedly to herself.

"No, thank you," she answered, her tone even cooler. And then, a moment later, added: "You come up."

There was a pause (in which she assumed he processed her words and proceeded to preen with smugness) before he hummed, "Even better. Eleanor gone?"

She knew he was more eager than he let on by the way his sentences shortened to the bare essentials. Words became a waste of time when he was anxious. She really did know him all too well. "Gone for the weekend," she informed him, her voice morphing, turning seductive, suggestive.

"A whole weekend?" Chuck asked, pleased beyond words. "Lovely. She's ever so accommodating."

"Isn't she just?" Blair chuckled. Although, if he thought she was going to spend the entire weekend locked in her room with _him_, of all people, he had another thing coming. There were a million preparations for the cotillion. Dance rehearsals, ball committee meetings and a tea party her mother was supposed to arrange but was now dumped on her. Besides, she had to meet with the tailor, the hair dresser, look for the perfect shoes…

She already had the perfect necklace for the event. Everything else needed to be just as perfect.

However, as the man responsible for said gorgeous necklace, Chuck did deserve her undivided attention for at least some time. Some long, languid, earth-shattering, mind-blowing _time_.

He didn't answer, but a quick look out the window revealed him hurrying into her building in the most elegant way he could muster while being undoubtedly turned-on.

She hung up and turned to the computer.

**i said yes. got 2 go. ttyl.**

**blair!**

She closed her laptop and set to fix her make-up. She had company.

:-:

"Chuck, stop it!" she squealed, many hours later, trying to squirm away as Chuck suddenly developed a playful streak and began nipping at her stomach, her collarbone, her neck and anywhere else that wasn't currently covered by underwear or blankets. It tickled and felt way too intimate for comfort, but damn him if he didn't somehow make it hot anyway.

Still, she had obligations.

"I have to meet with the tailor and we have dance rehearsals, come on!" she nearly pleaded, doubled over in laughter.

Chuck planted himself more firmly against her to prevent her from both escaping and causing him accidental (or absolutely intentional) bodily harm. It felt utterly perverted, just tasting her for the hell of it because she was adorable and delicious. Really, the thought of his actions alone could have brought bile to his throat and made his father cringe, but if he just didn't stop to think about it, it was simply fun. So he didn't.

Still, he had obligations.

"Me too," he murmured absently into her skin, making her shiver.

"You would," Blair laughed. All Upper East Side boys met with tailors before big events, but only Chuck did it so diligently and put so much thought into it. Which was why he always stood out, she supposed. However, something suddenly occurred to her and she stiffened, deathly serious. "What are you wearing?" she asked. "And if you say _purple_, I'll kick you out."

"Of course not," he reassured her. "Cotillions are for the ladies to shine," he smirked, letting his eyes roam over all the skin he had access to. "Some more than others," he added and reveled in the delighted grin she tried to suppress at the compliment. She was truly stunning but it was truly not the point. He had to keep his wits about him. "I'm going with classy black and white. You?"

Blair's smile widened in approval at his color scheme. "Traditional white. My dress is custom made," she preened.

"Good," he murmured, planting a quick kiss on her neck, again for no better reason than _just 'cause_. "Then we'll match. I know that's the only way to secure a dance with you."

Her back stiffened in indignation. "Are you still holding that against me? You were wearing _orange_ and I was wearing _green_. What was I _supposed_ to do?"

He sighed, "It was doomed from the very beginning."

He was mocking her, but she knew he understood. Just because he cared slightly less about these things than she did, didn't mean he didn't care at all. He was so different from other boys – other _people_. And yet, they were so alike sometimes, Chuck and Blair. The thought was oddly warming and she found herself pulling his face up for a kiss. Just a kiss, with no intentions behind it. Soft and lazy and he didn't seem to mind as he settled more comfortably against her, his fingers burying in her hair.

This was troubling, indeed. Something was wrong with them.

Serena's voice echoed in her head. _B, are you sure you know what you're doing? This is Chuck. And you. You and Chuck!_

_It's nothing,_ she had answered, looking away. _It's just a thing._

_Which is it? Nothing or a thing?_

_You know what I mean, Serena. It's fine._

Suddenly scared, Blair broke the kiss and raked her brain for a way to remind herself of their situation. "Who are you taking, anyway?" she asked, because she figured listening to him talk of candidates and his heartless screening process might do the trick. She needed to be reminded that this was nothing, even if she loathed being one of many.

"Why?" Chuck smirked, inching closer to her tantalizingly. "Are you offering?"

Her smirk matched his. "Perhaps. Are you interested?"

She had no idea what possessed her to say that. It was counter-productive at best and dangerous at worst. If any part of her, hidden deep beneath the surface, wanted him to ask her, to take her to the ball and maybe to other places, to buy her flowers and hold her hand – she stomped on it and hid it well, even from herself. It was to be murdered and joined in burial with Chuck's forgotten butterflies.

Chuck's expression darkened for a second but thankfully cleared before she was forced to think about it. He rolled his eyes and drew away. "Yeah, right," he said, and the bitterness sipped into his voice despite clear attempts to sound detached. "You prefer form over content."

"_Royalty_ form," she clarified sharply, for some reason feeling defensive. "Can you blame me?"

"Of course not," he cooed, patronizing her in a way he knew she'd hate. "Would you like to decide on a signal, for when the prince bores you to tears and you need some… entertainment?"

His eyebrows were slightly raised knowingly and it irked. Okay, so maybe she didn't hang onto every word that came out of the prince's mouth. And okay, the last few weeks with Chuck _may_ have been a _little bit _of a blessing, allowing her to relax and have some fun for once in her mega-organized life. And okay, maybe she had trouble remembering a time when she felt so good about herself or even about the world around her, for that matter. And okay, maybe she was just plain happy. But that did _not_ mean Chuck Bass suddenly became her personal gift from God. Not by a long-shot.

The boy needed a reality check.

"For your information, the Prince is a _perfectly_ delightful and interesting person," she snapped.

Her indignation told him everything he needed to know. She was protesting too much, which meant she probably disliked Pompous Prince Theodore almost as much as he did. This pleased him. He had hated the way the Prince spoke to him, like Chuck was a trashy new-money reality-show winner who just purchased his first house without wheels. He may be New Money - _relatively - _but he already had more class and finesse than the prince could ever hope to acquire.

"_I spent this summer at our house in France. Have you been to France yet?"_

Yes, he's been to mother-effing France, Prince of A-Country-No-One-Could-Locate-On-A-Map. Chuck would have ruined the Prince's royal nose right then and there, if he wasn't sure that would prove the Prince's assumption that Chuck grew up in a barn.

Chuck had hated even more the way the Prince stole glances at Blair while he exchanged obligatory pleasantries with him. Blair had been standing with Katy and Iz, back straight like a princess, holding a flute of champagne at just the right height but never drinking from it. Not fidgeting, rolling her eyes or even laughing too wildly. In fact, her expression was always that of distant contentment. Her dress was made of silk, its dark material whispering softly against her skin. Chuck could barely take his eyes off her for more than five minutes at a time. She looked gorgeous and he knew he wasn't the only one who noticed, but the Prince looked at her as if she were something that he simply _had _to get.

Chuck had to hold himself very still, lest he started actually barring teeth.

_She's mine_, he had chanted in his head as he tried not to growl. _She's mine, she's mine, she's mine. Don't you dare. Don't even look at her. Stay away from her._

His mood darkened even further when he saw them finally speaking. Pompous Prince Theodore was suddenly a blushing doe, stammering all over his words and smiling shyly. Blair was the perfect picture of grace, _of course_, and didn't even spare Chuck a glance as she pretended to consider the Prince's proposal for more than five seconds.

As if she wasn't squealing with joy in her head, Chuck thought surly.

His only comfort was the knowledge that she was so different when she was with him, meaning actually _herself_, that her interactions with the rest of the male sex had to be fake. She was far from the innocent, always well-mannered and good-tempered virginal-maiden front she presented to the world, but only he got to see it, only he evoked the fire in her. That helped some. Nevertheless, whenever she spoke to other guys, or sometimes even other girls, he found himself annoyed. His behavior was becoming dangerous.

But what was absolutely a world of worse and had nearly driven him to break things, was the look on Nate's face. A few weeks ago Nate hardly noticed Blair's existence if she wasn't directly pestering him, and many times not even then. A few weeks ago you had shove six Viagras down his throat in order for him to even _consider_ being with her in the same room. Wasn't Nate pathetically in love with Serena? Why was he suddenly sending the Prince dirty looks and watching _Blair_ wistfully? What was this?

Chuck blood was replaced with boiling, scorching acid. His jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. Every muscle in his body became rigid, primed for attack. The prince was a fleeting disturbance, but Nate was a full-blown complication Chuck wasn't sure he could handle. Nate was his best friend but Blair was his obsession. She was the first person who made him feel painfully alive with want, the first person to give him butterflies. Chuck simply _would not _let her go. The problem was that _Blair_ wouldn't think twice before tossing him out on the curve if she'd known of Nate's rekindled interest.

Nate and Blair's gazes met for a second, in which Nate sent her his best disgustingly boyish shy smile. Blair, clearly surprised, sent him a small grin and focused back on the prince, her cheeks slightly tinged in red.

Chuck wanted to throw up and die.

Oh, eff his life.

_Don't even think about it, _he had thought miserably, trying to telepathically stir Nate away._ She's mine. Don't take her away. Don't you dare._

God, what was wrong with him?

:-:

"Chuck?" Blair's voice shook him awake. He was horrified to discover he had succumbed to jealous musings like the most pathetic of Humphreys. His fingers dug into her thighs as if she were trying to flee to another man at the very moment.

She was still glaring at him as she waited for the expectant dig at her and the Prince's expense. Chuck forced the bitterness away, afraid she'll notice. She usually read him like an open book, but when it came to his feelings for her, of which he confessed only on her birthday and never again after that, she turned her head away. If she knew how pitifully possessive he truly was, she would back off in disgust and severe any ties between them. Frankly, he couldn't blame her. He was awfully tempted to do the same.

What did he need all these complications for?

Shaking his head, he chose to focus on the more carnal part of his body, the part he was used to and could control. Sex now, agonize later. His lips slowly formed a smirk, one he knew would grate her nerves but also turn her on, even though she'd try to fight it. "You can play with your necklace for a bit," he said, fingers brushing her collarbone, where the necklace would lie delicately. He wondered if she knew what it meant for him that she'd wear it on _that_ particular night, but imagined she didn't. "We'll find a quiet spot."

"I wouldn't count on it," she said primly, brushing his fingers away with a huff. "The risk is not worth the reward."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. It would be more believable if they hadn't spent the best part of the last few hours reaching new heights of pleasure, or if her voice wasn't slightly rasped from crying out his name. Still, he followed along and breathed smugly, "I take offence in that."

Blair smirked, her fingers brushing over his chest in a way that didn't seem conscious. "You should never take offence in things that you know not to be true," she said quietly, seemingly without realizing what she was saying.

His blood boiled again at her rare and random compliment, but this time with desire. It didn't even matter if she was lying to appease him, because he had no problem imagining she wasn't. Trying to appear like his normally insatiable self and nothing more, he kissed her like nuclear war was on its way. She responded because he liked to imagine she couldn't resist him (hint: it was true) but broke apart way too soon.

"Dance rehearsal," she reminded unsteadily.

"You helped come up with the routine," he reminded her, kissing her earlobe softly. "And I only need to be shown once," he smirked, somehow making even that innocent declaration an innuendo to his infamous sexual prowess (which were even better than advertised, she was reluctantly forced to admit). "I'd say we're good."

He meant that in more than one way.

Blair chuckled and it was almost romantic, joking around in bed on a lazy afternoon.

Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end. "I'm going with Serena. _You're _going with Nate."

He wanted to say '_screw Nate',_ but feared it might actually give her ideas. They couldn't have that, could they? No! However rhetorical the question was, his mind still screeched 'No!' at the very thought.

So he didn't say anything.

But even he could recognize that something dangerous was brewing inside him.

He was _thisclose_ to doing something stupid, like asking her to be his girlfriend or – as was more customary for him – blowing on the carefully built house of cards that was the non-relationship between Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass.

It was just a matter of time.

:-:

**Phew, these are getting longer. As always, I love-love-love hearing what you guys think. Please let me know? I remember the days of the old purple review button that is no more…**


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